THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

JIM  TULLY 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.  JIM  TULLY 


PACIFIC   TALES 


PACIFIC   TALES 

LOUIS      BECKE 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  GREAT  BRITAIN 


Colleg* 
UbrorY, 


to 

MY    TRUE    FRIEND    AND    GOOD    COMRADE, 

TOM    DE   WOLF, 

I    DEDICATE    THESE    TALES. 
IN    MEMORY    OF    THOSE    OLDEN    DAYS 

•WHEN    UNDER    STRANGE     SKIES    WE    SAILED    TOGETHER 
IN    WEATHER    FOUL    AND    FAIR. 


•Savage  Club, 

London,  April  \  5,  1896. 


834017 


CONTENTS 


PAG* 

AN  ISLAND  MEMORV  :  ENGLISH  BOB     .  .  •       J 

IN  THE  OLD,  BEACHCOMBING  DAYS  .  .  19 

MRS.  MALLESON'S  RIVAL          .  .  .  .4.5 

7RESCOTT    OP    NAURA          .  .  .  .  6j{ 

CHESTER'S  "CROSS"                .             .  .  .89 

HOLLJS'S  DEBT  :  A  TALE  OK  THE  NORTH-WEST  PACIFIC     I  I  $ 

THE  ARM  OF  LUNO  CAPAL      .             .  .  .129 

IN  A  SAMOAN  VILLAGE      .   «  .              .  .          (4.3 

COLLIER:  THE  "BLACKBIRDER"           .  ,  .   (61 

IN  THE  EVENING  .              .  .             .  .17$ 

THE  GREAT  CRUSHING  AT  MOUNT  SUGAR-BAG  .  .   l8j 

THE    SHADOWS    OF   THE    DEAD              .                  ,  .             til 

"FOR    WE    WERE    FRIENDS    At.WAYS  "      .  .                   .    233 
NIKOA        ......              24$ 

THE    STRANGE    WHITE    WOMAN    OF    MADURO  .                    •    2S5 

THE    OBSTINACY    OF    MRS.    TATTON    .  .             267 

DR.    LUDWIG    SCHWALBE,    SOUTH    SEA    SAVANT  .                   ,    z8l 

THE    TREASURE    OF    DON    BRUNO                             .  .              }OI 


AN  ISLAND  MEMORY 
ENGLISH  BOB 


An  Island  Memory : 
English  Bob 

THERE  was  once  a  South  Sea  Island  supercargo 
named  Denison  who  had  a  Kanaka  father  and  mother. 
This  was  when  Denison  was  a  young  man.  His 
father's  name  was  Kusis  ;  his  mother's  Tulpe.  Also, 
he  had  several  brown-skinned,  lithe-limbed,  and  big- 
eyed  brothers  and  sisters,  who  made  much  of  their 
new  white  brother,  and  petted  and  caressed  and  wept 
over  him  as  if  he  were  an  ailing  child  of  six  instead  of 
a  tough  young  fellow  of  two-and-twenty  who  had 
nothing  wrong  with  him  but  a  stove-in  rib  and  a 
heart  that  ached  for  home,  which  made  him  cross 
and  fretful. 

But  Denison  hasn't  got  much  to  do  with  this  story, 
so  all  I  need  say  of  him  is  that  he  had  been  the  super- 
cargo of  a  brig  called  the  Leonora ;  and  the  Leonora 
had  been  wrecked  on  Strong's  Island  in  the  North 
Pacific  ;  and  Denison  had  quarrelled  with  the  captain, 
whose  name  was  "  Bully"  Hayes  ;  and  so  one  day  he 
said  goodbye  to  the  roystering  Bully  and  the  rest  of 
his  shipmates,  and  travelled  across  the  lagoon  till  he 
came  to  a  sweet  little  village  named  Leasse,  and  asked 
for  Kusis,  who  was  the  head  man  thereof. 


4  An  Island  Memory: 

"Give  me,  O  Kusis,  to  eat  and  drink,  and  a  mat 
whereon  to  sleep  ;  for  I  have  broken  apart  from  the 
rest  of  the  white  men  who  were  cast  away  with  me  in 
the  ship,  and  there  is  no  more  friendship  between  us. 
And  I  desire  to  live  here  in  peace." 

Then  Kusis,  who  was  but  a  stalwart  savage,  nude 
to  his  loins,  and  tattooed  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to 
the  sole  of  his  foot,  lifted  Denison  up  in  his  brawny 
arms,  and  carried  him  into  his  house,  and  set  him  down 
on  a  fine  mat ;  and  Tulpe,  his  wife,  and  Kinia,  his 
daughter,  put  food  before  him  on  platters  of  twisted 
cane,  and  bade  him  eat. 

Then,  when  the  white  man  slept,  Kusis  called 
around  him  the  people  of  Leasse  and  told  them  that 
that  very  day  a  messenger  had  come  to  him  from  the 
King  and  said  that  the  white  man  who  was  coming  to 
Leasse  was  to  be  as  a  son  to  him,  "  for,"  said  the  King, 
"my  stomach  is  filled  with  friendship  for  this  man, 
because  when  he  was  rich  and  a  supercargo  he  had  a 
generous  hand  to  us  of  Strong's  Island.  But  now  he 
is  poor,  and  hath  been  sick  for  many  months,  so  thou, 
Kusis,  must  be  father  to  him  and  give  him  all  that  he 
may  want." 

So  that  is  how  Denison  came  to  stay  at  Leasse,  and 
lived  on  the  fat  of  the  land  in  the  quiet  little  village 
nestling  under  the  shadows  of  Mont  Buache,  while  up 
at  Utwe  Harbour  on  the  south  side  of  the  island,  Bully 
Hayes  and  his  crew  of  swarthy  ruffians  drank  and 
robbed  and  fought  and  cut  each  others'  throats,  and 
stole  women  from  the  villages  round  about,  and  turned 
an  island  paradise  into  a  hell  of  base  and  wicked 
passions.  But  though  Leasse  was  but  ten  miles  from 
Utwe,  none  of  the  shipwrecked  sailors  ever  came  there, 


English  Bob.  5 

partly  because  Captain  Hayes  had  promised  Denison 
that  his  men  should  not  interfere  with  Leasse,  and 
partly  because  the  men  themselves  all  liked  Denison, 
and  did  not  like  the  Winchester  rifle  he  owned. 

And  as  he  grew  stronger  and  joined  the  villagers  in 
their  huntings  and  fishings,  they  made  more  and  more 
of  him,  but  yet  watched  his  movements  with  a  jealous 
eye,  lest  he  should  grow  tired  of  them  and  go  back  to 
the  other  white  men. 

Leasse,  as  I  have  said,  was  but  a  little  village — not 
quite  thirty  houses — and  stood  on  gently  undulating 
ground  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  whose  sides  were 
clothed  with  verdure  and  whose  summit  at  dawn  and 
eve  was  always  veiled  in  misty  clouds.  And  so  dense 
was  the  foliage  of  the  mountain  forest  of  "  tamanu  " 
and  "  masa'oi "  that  only  here  and  there  could  the 
bright  sunlight  pierce  through  the  leafy  canopy  and 
streak  with  lines  of  gold  the  thick  brown  carpet  of 
leaves  covering  the  warm  red  soil  beneath.  Sometimes, 
when  the  trade  wind  had  died  away  and  the  swish  and 
rustle  of  the  tree-tops  overhead  had  ceased,  one  might 
hear  the  faint  murmur  of  voices  in  the  village  far 
below,  or  the  sharp  screaming  note  of  the  mountain 
cock  calling  to  his  mate,  and  now  and  then  the  muffled 
roar  of  the  surf  beating  upon  its  coral  barrier  miles  and 
miles  away. 

But  down  from  the  gloomy  silence  of  the  mountain 
there  led  a  narrow  path  that  followed  the  winding 
course  of  a  little  stream,  which  in  places  leapt  from 
shelves  of  hard  black  rock  into  deep  pools  perhaps  fifty 
feet  below,  and  then  swirled  and  danced  over  its  pebblj 
bed  till  it  sprang  out  joyously  from  its  darkened  course 
above  into  the  bright  light  and  life  of  the  shining 


6  An  Island  Memory  : 

beach  and  the  tumbling  surt  and  sunlit,  cloudless  sky 
of  blue  that  ever  lay  before  and  above  the  dwellers  in 
Leasse  village. 

Right  in  front  of  the  village  ran  a  sweeping  curve 
of  yellow  beach,  with  here  and  there  a  clump  of  rocks, 
whose  black,  jagged  outlines  were  covered  with  mantles 
of  creepers  and  vines  green  and  yellow,  in  which 
at  night-time  the  snow-white  tropic  birds  came  to 
roost  with  clamorous  note.  Back  from  the  beach 
stood  groves  of  pandanus  and  breadfruit  and  coconuts, 
whose  branches  sang  merrily  all  day  long  to  the 
sweep  of  the  whistling  trade  wind,  but  drooped 
languidly  at  sunset  when  it  died  away. 

Straight  before  the  door  of  Denison's  house  of  thatch 
there  lay  a  wide  expanse  of  placid,  reef-bound  sea,  pale- 
greenish  in  its  shallower  portions  near  the  shore,  but 
deepening  into  blue  as  it  increased  in  depth  toward  the 
line  of  foaming  surf  that  ever  roared  and  thundered  upon 
the  jagged  coral  wall  which  flung  the  sweeping  billows 
back  in  clouds  of  misty  spume.  Half  a  mile  away, 
and  shining  like  emeralds  in  the  bright  rays  of  the 
tropic  sun,  lay  two  tiny  islets  of  palms  that  seemed  to 
float  and  quiver  on  the  glassy  surface  in  the  glory  of 
their  surpassing  green. 

At  dusk,  when  the  shadows  of  the  great  mountain 
fell  upon  the  yellow  curve  of  beach,  and  the  coming 
night  enwrapped  the  silent  aisles  of  the  forest,  the 
men  of  Leasse  would  sit  outside  their  houses  and 
smoke  and  talk,  whilst  the  women  and  girls  would 
sing  the  songs  of  the  old  bygone  days  when  they  were 
a  strong  people  with  spear  and  club  in  hand,  and  the 
mountain-sides  and  now  deserted  bays  of  Strong's  Island 
were  thick  with  the  houses  of  their  forefathers. 


English  Bob.  7 

One  evening,  as  Kusis,  with  Tulpe,  his  wife,  and 
Kinia,  his  daughter,  sat  with  Denison  on  a  wide  mat 
outspread  before  the  doorway  of  their  house,  listening 
to  the  beat  of  the  distant  surf  upon  the  reef,  and 
watching  the  return  of  a  fleet  of  fishing  canoes,  they 
were  joined  by  a  half-caste  boy  and  girl  who  lived  in 
a  village  some  few  miles  further  along  the  coast.  The 
boy  was  about  twelve  years  of  age,  the  girl  two  or 
three  years  older.  Denison  had  one  day  met  them, 
and  they  had  taken  him  with  them  to  their  mother's 
house.  She  was  a  woman  of  not  much  past  thirty, 
and  the  moment  the  white  man  entered  had  greeted 
him  warmly,  and  pointing  to  some  muskets,  cutlasses, 
and  many  other  articles  of  European  manufacture  that 
hung  from  the  beams  overhead,  said  :  "See,  those  were 
my  husband's  guns  and  swords." 

"  Ahe,  and  was  he  a  white  man  ?  " 

"Aye,"  the  woman  answered  proudly,  as  she 
brought  Denison  a  mat  to  sit  upon,  "a  white  man, 
and,  like  thee,  an  Englishman.  But  it  is  two  years 
now  since  he  died  under  the  spears  of  the  men  of  Yap, 
when  he  led  other  white  men  to  the  attack  on  the 
great  fort  in  the  bay  there.  Ah,  he  was  a  brave  man  ! 
And  then  I,  who  saw  him  die,  came  back  here  with 
my  children  to  Leasse  to  live,  for  here  in  this  very 
house  was  I  born,  and  this  land  that  encompasseth  it  is 
mine  by  inheritance." 

From  that  day  Denison  and  the  two  half-caste 
children  became  sworn  friends,  and  twice  or  thrice  a 
week  the  boy  and  girl  would  walk  over  to  see  him, 
and  stay  the  night  so  as  to  accompany  him  fishing  or 
shooting  on  the  following  day.  The  boy  was  a  sturdy, 
well-built  youngster,  with  a  skin  that,  from  constant 


8  An  Island  Memory  : 

exposure  to  the  sun,  was  almost  as  dark  as  that  of  a 
full-blooded  native  ;  but  the  girl  was  very  light  in 
complexion,  with  those  strangely  deep,  lustrous  eyes 
common  to  women  of  the  Micronesian  and  Polynesian 
people — eyes  in  whose  liquid  depths  one  may  read  the 
coming  fate  of  all  their  race,  doomed  to  utter  ex- 
tinction before  the  inroads  of  civilisation  with  all  its 
deadly  terrors  of  insidious  and  unknown  disease. 
Unlike  her  brother,  who  either  could  not  or  pretended 
he  could  not,  understand  English,  Tasia  both  under- 
stood and  spoke  it  with  some  fluency,  for,  with  her 
mother  and  brother,  she  had  always  accompanied  her 
father  in  his  wanderings  about  the  Pacific,  and  had 
mixed  much  with  white  men  of  a  certain  class — 
traders,  pearl-shellers,  and  deserters  from  whaleships 
and  men-of-war. 

For  some  minutes  Kusis  and  his  white  friend 
smoked  their  pipes  in  silence,  whilst  Tulpe  and  the 
two  girls  sat  a  little  apart  from  them,  talking  in  the 
soft,  almost  whispered  tones  peculiar  to  the  Malayan- 
blooded  women  of  the  Caroline  Islands,  and  looking 
at  some  boys  who  were  boxing  with  the  half-caste 
lad  near  by. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  Tasia  to  the  two  men,  with  a  laugh, 
"see  those  foolish  boys  trying  to  fight  like  English 
people." 

"What  know  you  of  how  English  people  fight, 
Tasia  ?  "  asked  Denison. 

The  girl  arched  her  pretty  black  brows.  "  Much. 
I  have  seen  my  father  fight — and  he  was  the  greatest 
fighter  in  the  world." 

"Truly?" 

"Truly.     Is  it  not  so,  Kusis  ?" 


English  Bob.  9 

"  Aye,"  said  Kusis,  turning  to  Denison,  "  he  was  a 
great  fighter  with  his  hands  as  well  as  with  musket 
and  sword.  Tell  him,  Tasia,  of  how  thy  father 
fought  at  Ebon." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  When  I  was  but  ten  years  old  there  came  to  Lela 
Harbour  on  this  island  a  great  English  fighting  ship, 
and  my  father,  who  had  run  away  from  just  such 
another  ship  long  years  before  in  a  country  called 
Kali-fo-nia,  became  troubled  in  his  mind,  and  hid 
himself  in  the  forest  till  she  had  gone.  When  he 
returned  to  his  house,  he  said — pointing  to  many 
letters  and  tattoo  marks  on  his  breast  and  arms — 
'Only  because  of  these  names  written  on  my  skin 
have  I  lived  like  a  wild  boar  in  the  woods  for  three 
days ;  for  see,  this  name  across  my  breast,  were  it 
seen  by  the  people  of  the  man-of-war,  would  bring 
me  to  chains  and  a  prison,  and  I  should  see  thee 
no  more.'  And  so,  because  he  feared  that  another 
man-of-war  might  come  here,  he  had  the  whole  of  his 
breast,  back,  and  arms  tattooed  very  deeply,  after  the 
fashion  of  Strong's  Island,  so  that  the  old  marks  were 
quite  hidden.  Yet  even  then  he  was  still  moody,  and 
at  last  he  took  us  away  with  him  in  a  whaleship  to  an 
island  called  Ebon,  ten  days'  sail  from  here.  And  here 
for  a  year  we  lived,  although  the  people  were  strange 
to  us,  and  their  language  and  customs  very  different 
to  ours.  As  time  went  on,  the  Ebon  people  began 
to  think  much  of  my  father,  because  of  his  great 
bodily  strength  and  courage  in  battle,  for  they  were 
at  war  among  themselves,  and  he  was  ever  foremost 
in  fighting  for  Labayan,  the  chief  under  whose  pro- 
tection we  lived. 


io  An  Island  Memory  : 

"One  day  a  great  American  warship  came  into  the 
lagoon  of  Ebon,  and  many  of  the  sailors  came  ashore 
and  got  drunk,  and  as  they  staggered  about  the  village, 
frightening  the  women  and  children,  one  of  them, 
hearing  that  my  father  was  a  white  man,  came  to  him 
as  he  sat  quietly  in  his  house,  gave  him  foul  words,  and 
then  said — 

"'Come  out  and  fight,  thou  tattooed  beast,  who 
calleth  thyself  a  white  man.' 

u  There  were  many  sailors  gathered  outside  the 
house,  and  these,  because  my  father  took  no  heed 
of  the  drunken  man's  words,  but  bade  him  go  away, 
called  out  that  he  was  but  a  beach-combing  coward 
and  had  no  white  blood  in  him,  else  would  he  take 
up  the  challenge. 

"  Then  Bob — for  that  was  my  father's  name — put 
a  loaded  musket  in  my  mother's  hand,  and  said  :  '  I 
must  fight  this  man  ;  but  stand  thou  at  the  door,  and 
if  any  one  of  the  others  seeks  to  enter  the  house,  fear 
not  to  shoot  him  dead.'  Then  he  stepped  out  to  the 
sailors,  and  said — 

" '  Why  must  I  fight  this  man  ?  What  quarrel 
hath  he  with  me,  or  I  with  him  ?  And  I  shall  not 
fight  with  a  man  when  he  is  "  tamtrunk  "  and  can- 
not stand  straight  on  his  feet.' 

" '  Fight  him,'  they  answered,  *  else  shall  we  pull 
thy  house  down  and  beat  thee  for  an  English  cur.' 

"  And  then  I  heard  the  sound  of  blows,  and  could 
see  that  Bob  and  the  man  who  challenged  him  were 
fighting.  Presently  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  man 
falling,  and  the  blue-coated  sailors  gave  a  great  cry, 
and  I  saw  my  father  standing  alone  in  the  ring.  At 
a  little  distance  lay  the  American,  whose  body  was 


English  Bob.  11 

supported  by  two  of  his  friends.  His  head  had  sunk 
forward  on  his  chest,  and  those  about  him  said  to  my 
father,  *  His  jaw  is  broken.' 

"  My  father  laughed — «  Whose  fault  is  that  ?  Ye 
forced  me  to  fight,  and  I  struck  him  but  once.  Is 
there  no  one  man  among  ye  who  can  do  better  than  he  ? 
'Tis  a  poor  victory  for  an  Englishman  to  break  the 
jaw  of  a  man  who  thought  he  could  fight,  but  could 
not.'  Then  he  mocked  them,  and  said  they  were 
'  ski tas' (boasters)  like  all  the  *  Yankeese  ' ;  for  now 
he  was  angry,  and  his  eyes  were  like  glowing  coals. 

"But  they  were  not  all  'skitas,'  for  two  or  three 
stepped  out  and  wanted  to  fight  him,  but  the  others 
stayed  them,  and  said  to  my  father  :  *  Nay,  no  more 
now  ;  go  back  to  thy  wife  ;  but  to-morrow  night  we 
shall  bring  a  man  from  the  other  watch  on  board  the 
ship  whom  we  will  match  against  thee.'  Then  they 
lifted  up  the  man  with  the  broken  jaw,  and  carried 
him  away. 

"In  the  morning  there  came  to  our  house  two 
sailors  bearing  a  letter,  which  my  father  read.  It  said 
that  there  would  come  ashore  that  night  the  best 
fighting  man  of  the  ship,  who  would  fight  him  for 
one  hundred  dollars  in  silver  money. 

"  Now  thirteen  silver  dollars  was  all  the  money  my 
father  had,  so  he  went  to  Labayan  the  chief,  who  had 
a  strong  friendship  for  him,  and  read  him  the  letter. 
4  Lend  me,'  said  he,  c  seven-and-thirty  dollars,  and  I 
will  fight  this  man  ;  and  if  I  be  beaten  and  the  fifty 
dollars  are  lost,  then  shall  I  give  thee  a  musket  and 
five  fat  hogs  for  the  money  lent  me.' 

"  Now,  Labayan  could  not  refuse  my  father,  so 
without  a  word  he  brought  him  the  money  and  placed 


1 2  An  Island  Memory  : 

it  in  his  hands,  and  said  :  c  Take  it,  O  Papu  the 
Strong,  and  if  it  be  that  them  art  beaten  in  the  fight, 
then  I  forgive  thee  the  debt — it  is  God's  will  if  this 
man  prove  the  stronger  of  the  two.' 

"  At  sunset  two  boats  filled  with  men  came  ashore. 
Four  score  and  six  were  they  altogether,  for  my  mother 
and  I  counted  them  as  they  walked  up  from  the  beach 
to  the  great  open  square  in  front  of  the  chiefs  house. 
All  round  the  sides  of  the  square  were  placed  mats  for 
them  to  sit  upon,  and  presently  baked  fish  and  fowls  to 
eat  and  young  coconuts  to  drink  were  put  before 
them  by  the  people,  who  were  gathered  together  in 
great  numbers,  for  the  news  of  the  fight  had  gone  to 
every  village  on  the  island,  and  they  all  came  to  see. 
As  darkness  came  on,  hundreds  of  torches  were  lit, 
and  held  up  by  the  women  and  boys. 

"  By  and  by,  when  the  sailors  had  finished  eating, 
Labayan  and  his  two  wives  came  out  and  sat  down  at 
one  end  of  the  square,  and  my  mother  and  I  sat  with 
them.  And  then,  as  fresh  torches  were  lit,  so  that 
the  great  square  became  as  light  as  day,  a  man  rose  up 
from  among  the  white  men  and  stepped  into  the 
centre. 

"  '  Where  is  the  man  ? '  he  said. 

"  *  Here,'  answered  my  father,  pushing  his  way 
through  the  swarm  of  people  who  stood  tightly  packed 
together  behind  the  sitting  white  men,  'and  here  is 
my  money '  ;  and  he  held  out  a  small  bag. 

"  *  And  here  is  ours,'  said  some  of  the  sailors, 
coming  forward,  and  the  money  was  placed  in 
Labayan's  hands.  Then  one  of  them  opened  a  bottle 
of  grog,  and  my  father  and  the  other  man  each  drank 


English  Bob.  13 

some.  Then  they  stripped  to  their  waists.  My 
father  was  thought  to  be  a  very  big  and  strong  man  ; 
but  when  Labayan  and  his  people  saw  the  other  man 
take  off  his  jumper  and  shirt,  and  beheld  his  great 
hairy  chest  and  muscles  that  stood  out  like  the  roots 
of  a  tree  when  they  protrude  from  the  ground,  they 
murmured.  c  He  will  kill  Papu,'  they  said. 

"  So  Labayan  cried,  *  Stop  !  '  and  standing  up  and 
speaking  very  quickly,  said  :  4  O  Papu,  there  must  be 
no  fight !  But  tell  all  these  white  men  that  the  man 
they  have  brought  to  fight  thee  shall  have  the  money 
that  is  in  my  hands.  And  tell  them  also — so  that 
they  shall  not  be  vexed — that  the  women  and  girls 
shall  dance  for  them  here  in  the  square  till  sun- 
rise.' 

"  My  father  laughed  and  shook  his  head,  but  told 
the  white  men  Labayan's  words,  and  they  too 
laughed. 

" c  Nay,  Labayan,'  said  my  father,  '  fight  I  must, 
or  else  be  shamed.  But  have  no  fear  ;  this  will  be 
a  long  fight,  but  I  am  the  better  of  the  two.  I  know 
this  man  ;  he  is  an  Englishman  like  myself,  and  a 
great  fighter.  But  he  does  not  know  me  now  ;  for  it 
is  many  years  since  he  saw  me  last.'  And  then  he 
and  the  sailor  shook  each  other  by  the  hand ;  and  then 
began  the  fight. 

"  Ah  !  it  was  terrible  to  look  at,  and  soon  I  began 
to  tremble,  and  I  hid  my  face  on  my  mother's  bosom. 
Once  I  heard  a  loud  cry  from  the  assembled  people, 
and  looking  up  saw  my  father  stagger  backwards  and 
fall.  But  only  for  a  moment,  and  as  he  rose  again  the 
white  men  clapped  their  hands  and  shouted  loudly  ; 
and  again  I  hid  my  face  as  the  two  met  again,  and  the 


1 4  An  Island  Memory  : 

sounds  of  their  blows  and  their  fierce  breathing  seemed 
like  thunder  in  my  ears. 

"  Presently  they  rested  awhile,  and  now  the  torches 
blazed  up  again,  and,  as  the  women  saw  that  the  face 
of  the  big  man  was  reddened  with  blood  which  ran 
down  his  body,  their  hearts  were  filled  with  pity,  a 
great  wailing  cry  broke  from  them,  and  they  ran  up 
to  Labayan  and  besought  him  to  bid  the  fight  to  cease. 
But  the  white  men  said  it  must  go  on. 

As  the  two  men  rested,  sitting  on  the  knees  of  two 
of  the  sailors,  they  each  drank  a  little  grog — just  a 
mouthful.  Then  they  stood  up  again,  staggering 
about  like  drunken  men  ;  and  my  mother  and  I, 
with  many  other  women,  ran  into  Labayan's  house 
and  wept  together — for  we  could  no  longer  look. 
Suddenly  we  heard  a  great  cry  of  triumph  from  the 
assembled  people,  but  the  white  men  were  silent. 
Then  Labayan  called  to  us  to  come  and  see.  So  we 
ran  out  into  the  square  again. 

*'The  big  white  man  lay  upon  a  mat,  but  he  was 
horrible  to  look  at,  and  we  turned  our  faces  away. 
My  father  sat  near  him,  held  up  by  Labayan  and  one 
of  the  white  sailors,  and  lying  beside  his  open  hand 
were  the  two  bags  of  money.  But  his  eyes  were 
closed,  and  he  breathed  heavily. 

"As  the  people — white  and  brown — thronged 
around  the  big  man  to  see  if  he  were  dead,  we  heard 
the  tramp  of  marching  men,  and  a  score  of  sailors 
carrying  muskets,  with  swords  fastened  to  their  muzzles, 
came  across  the  square.  They  were  led  by  two 
officers,  who  held  drawn  swords  in  their  hands. 

tt  *  What  is  this  ? '  said  he  who  was  leader,  sternly, 
looking  first  at  one  and  then  at  another  of  the  white 


English  Bob.  15 

sailors.  Then  they  told  him,  and  said  it  had  been 
a  fair  fight. 

"  *  Back  to  the  boats,  every  man,'  he  said,  *  but 
first  carry  this  dying  man  into  a  house,  where  he 
must  lie  till  the  doctor  comes  to  him.'  And  then, 
when  this  was  done,  the  armed  men  drove  the  others 
down  to  the  boats,  and  the  square  became  dark  and 
deserted. 

"  My  father  was  but  little  hurt,  and  all  that  night 
he  sat  beside  the  man  he  had  fought,  who  lay  sick  for 
many  days  in  Labayan's  house.  Every  morning  the 
doctor  from  the  ship  came  to  see  him,  and  other  white 
men  came  as  well.  At  last  he  got  better,  and  then 
he  and  my  father  had  a  long  talk  together,  and  shook 
each  other's  hands,  and  became  as  brothers.  Then 
the  boat  came  for  him,  and  the  beaten  man  bid  us  all 
farewell  and  went  away. 

"  That  night  my  father  told  us  that  this  man,  who 
was  named  Harry,  had  once  been  a  friend  of  his,  and 
they  had  served  the  Queen  of  England  together  in 
the  same  man-of-war,  and,  like  him,  had  run  away 
from  the  ship.  And  as  soon  as  my  father  met  him 
face  to  face  in  the  square  he  knew  him,  c  and,'  said  he, 
'it  came  hard  to  me  to  fight  a  man  who  was  once 
my  friend,  and  was  still  my  countryman,  but  yet  it 
had  to  be  done  to  shame  those  boasting  "Yankeese," 
who  are  but  "  skitas." '  " 


And  now,  as  I  think  of  Tasia's  story,  there  springs 
upon  my  memory  the  tale  of  the  fight  told  of  in 
"The  Man  from  Snowy  River,"  where  an  Australian 
station  manager,  fresh  from  England,  fought  a  terrible 


1 6          An  Island  Memory :    "English  Bob. 

fight  with  an   intruding  drover.     So,  only  changing 
four  words  of  "  Saltbush  Bill,"  and  with  all  apologies — 

Now  the  sailor  fought  for  a  money  prize  with  a  scowl  on  his  bearded 

face, 
But  the  trader  fought  for  his  honour's  sake  and  the  pride  of  the  English 

race. 


[N   THE    OLD,   BEACH-COMBING 
DATS 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing 
Days 

A  WHITE,  misty  rain-squall  swept  down  the  mountain 
pass  at  the  head  of  Lela  Harbour,  plashed  noisily 
across  the  deep  waters  of  the  land-locked  bay  and 
whirled  away  seaward. 

Standing  upon  jutting  ledges  of  the  inner  or 
harbour  reef,  a  number  of  brown-skinned  women  and 
children  were  fishing.  The  tide  was  low  and  the 
water  smooth,  and  as  the  fishers  shook  the  raindrops 
from  off  their  black  tresses  and  shining  skins  of  bronze 
they  laughed  and  sang  and  called  out  to  one  another 
across  the  deep  reef-pools. 

"  Ai-e-th  !  "  cried  a  tall,  slender  girl,  naked  to  her 
hips,  around  which  she  wore,  like  her  older  and 
younger  companions,  a  broad,  woven  sash  of  gaily- 
coloured  banana  fibre — "  ai-e-eh  !  'tis  a  cold  rain,  but 
now  will  the  fish  bite  fast,  and  I  shall  take  me  home  a 
heavier  basket  than  any  of  ye  here  ; "  and  then  she 
deftly  swung  her  long  bamboo  rod  over  the  pool  on 
whose  rugged  brink  she  stood. 

"  Tah  !  Listen  to  her  !  "  called  out  a  round-faced, 
merry-eyed  little  woman  who  fished  on  the  other 
side.  "  Listen  to  Niya  the  Wisehead !  She  hath 

19 


2O  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

not  yet  caught  a  fish,  and  now  boasteth  of  the  great 
basketful  she  will  take  home  !  Get  thec  home  for 
thy  father's  seine  net,  for  thou  canst  not  catch  any- 
thing with  thy  rod  ; "  and  the  speaker,  with  a  good- 
humoured  laugh,  took  a  small  fish  out  of  the  basket 
that  hung  at  her  side  and  threw  it  at  the  girl. 

Niya,  too,  laughed  merrily  as  she  ducked  her  head 
and  twisted  her  lithe  young  body  sideways,  and  the 
fish,  flying  past  her  face,  struck  a  boy  who  stood  near 
to  her  in  the  back. 

He  swung  round,  and  with  mock  ferocity  hurled 
the  fish  back  at  she  who  threw  it. 

"  That  for  thee,  fat-faced  Tulpe  ;  and  would  that 
it  had  gone  into  thy  big  mouth  and  down  thy  throat 
and  choked  thee  !  Then  would  thy  husband  call 
me  friend,  and  seek  out  another  wife  ;  for,  look  thou, 
Tulpe,  thou  art  getting  old  and  ugly  now." 

A  loud  shriek  of  laughter  from  Niya,  a  merry, 
mocking  echo  from  those  about  her,  joined  in  with 
Tulpe's  own  good-natured  chuckle,  and  then,  flinging 
down  their  rods  and  baskets,  they  sprang  into  the 
water  one  after  another  and  played  and  laughed  and 
gambolled  like  the  children  they  were  all  in  heart 
if  not  in  years. 

By  and  by  the  sun  came  out,  hot  and  fierce,  and 
the  women  and  children,  rods  in  hand  and  baskets 
on  backs,  made  homewards  to  their  village  across 
the  broken  surface  of  the  reef.  Right  before  them 
it  lay,  a  cluster  of  some  two  or  three  score  of  grey- 
thatched,  saddle-backed  houses,  with  slender  sharp- 
pointed  gables  at  either  end. 

Nearest  to  the  beach  and  distinguishable  from  the 
others  by  its  great  size  was  the  dwelling  of  TogusS, 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  21 

the  chief  of  Lela  Harbour.  At  a  distance  of  fifty  feet 
or  so  from  its  canework  sides  a  low  wall  of  coral  slabs 
surrounded  it  on  four  sides,  with  gateways  at  back 
and  front.  Within,  the  walled-in  space  was  covered 
with  snow-white  pebbles  of  broken  coral,  save  where 
a  narrow  pathway  led  from  the  front  gateway  to  the 
open  doorway  of  the  house. 

On  came  the  fishers,  the  older  of  the  women 
walking  first  in  twos  and  threes,  the  young  girls  and 
boys  following  in  a  noisy,  laughing  crowd.  But  as 
they  drew  nearer  to  the  low  stone  wall  their  babbling 
laughter  died  away,  and  they  spoke  to  each  other  in 
lowered  tones.  For  it  had  ever  been  the  custom  of 
Kusaie  x  to  speak  in  a  whisper  in  the  presence  of  a 
chief,  and  Togusa,  chief  of  Lela,  was  master  of  the 
lives  of  four  thousand  of  the  people.  Other  chiefs 
were  there  on  Kusaie  who  lived  at  Utwe  and  Mout 
and  Leasse,  and  whose  people  exceeded  in  numbers 
those  of  the  chief  of  Lela,  but  none  were  there  whose 
name  was  so  old  and  whose  fame  in  battle  would 
compare  with  his. 

So,  with  softened  steps  and  bodies  bent,  the  women 
entered  through  the  narrow  gateway  one  by  one  and 
knelt  down  in  front  of  the  door  in  the  manner  peculiar 
to  the  women  of  the  Caroline  Islands,  bringing  their 
thighs  together  and  turning  their  feet  outward  and 
backward.  Apart  from  them,  and  clustering  together, 
were  the  boys,  each  sitting  cross-legged  with  out- 
spread hands  upon  the  pebbled  ground.  And  then 
all,  women,  girls,  and  boys,  bent  their  eyes  to  the 
ground  and  waited. 

Presently  there  came  to  the  open  doorway  of  the 

'  Strong'*  Island,  the  eastern  outlier  of  the  Caroline  Archipelago. 


22  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

chief's  house  an  old,  white-haired  woman,  who 
supported  her  feeble  steps  with  a  stick  of  ebony 
wood.  For  a  moment  or  two  she  looked  at  the 
people  assembled  before  her,  and  then  a  girl  who 
followed  her  placed  upon  the  canework  verandah  of 
the  house  a  broad,  white  mat,  and  spread  it  out  for 
her  to  sit  upon.  Slowly  the  old  woman  stooped  her 
time-worn  frame  and  sat,  and  then  the  slave-girl 
crouched  behind  her,  and,  with  full,  luminous  eyes, 
looked  over  her  mistress's  shoulder. 

Suddenly  the  dame  raised  her  stick  and  tapped  it 
twice  on  the  cane  work  floor,  and  then,  with  a  quick, 
soundless  motion,  the  fishers  rose,  and  with  bent  heads 
and  stooping  bodies  crept  up  near  to  her  and  laid  their 
baskets  of  fish  silently  at  her  feet. 

But  though  they  spoke  not  themselves,  each  one  as 
she  or  he  placed  a  basket  down  looked  at  Sipi,  the 
slave,  and  made  a  slight  movement  of  the  lips,  and 
Sipi,  in  a  low  voice  and  looking  straight  before  her, 
murmured  the  giver's  name  to  the  old  woman. 

"  'Tis  the  gift  of  Kinio,  the  wife  of  Nara,  to  Seaa, 
the  mother  of  Togusa  the  King." 

"  'Tis  the  gift  of  Leja,  the  daughter  of  Naril,  to 
Seaa,  the  mother  of  the  King." 

And  so,  one  by  one,  they  laid  down  their  tribute  till 
the  offering  was  finished  and  they  had  crept  back 
again  to  the  place  where  they  had  first  awaited  old 
Seaa's  coming,  and  now  they  sat  and  waited  for  the 
King's  mother  to  speak. 

"  Come  hither,  Niya." 

At  the  sound  of  the  old  woman's  voice  the  girl 
Niya  came  quickly  out  from  amongst  her  companions 
and  sat  down  beside  the  piled-up  baskets  of  fish. 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  23 

"  Count  thee  out  ten  fish  for  Togusa  the  King,  ten 
each  for  his  wives,  and  two  for  Sipi,  the  slave." 

With  deft  hands  the  girl  did  the  old  dame's  bidding 
and  placed  the  fish  side  by  side  upon  narrow  leaf 
platters  brought  to  her  by  the  young  slave-girl. 

"  Good,"  said  old  Seaa,  smiling  at  the  girl,  for  Niya 
was  niece  to  Sikra,  and  Sikra  was  one  of  the  King's 
most  trusted  warriors  and  nephew  to  old  Seaa. 

"  Good  child.  And  now,  tell  the  people  that 
Togusa  the  King  is  sick,  and  so  comes  not  out  to-day 
to  see  their  offerings  of  goodwill  to  him  and  his  house. 
So  let  them  away  to  their  homes,  taking  with  them 
all  the  fish  they  have  brought  save  these  fifty  and  two 
here  before  me." 

Again  the  women  crept  up,  and  each  taking  up  her 
basket  again  walked  slowly  away  through  the  gateway 
and  disappeared  among  the  various  houses.  But  Niya, 
at  a  sign  from  the  King's  mother,  remained,  and  sat 
down  beside  Sipi,  the  slave. 

By  and  by,  with  much  stamping  of  feet  and  singing 
a  loud  chorus,  came  a  party  of  men,  tall,  stalwart 
fellows,  stripped  to  their  waists,  with  their  long  black 
hair  tied  up  in  a  knob  at  the  back  of  their  heads.  As 
they  reached  the  gate  their  song  ceased,  and  each  man 
placed  the  basket  of  taro  or  yams  he  carried  at  the 
feet  of  the  old  dame.  From  each  basket  the  girl 
Niya,  at  old  Seaa's  command,  took  one  taro  and  a 
small  yam  for  the  King's  household  ;  then  the  men, 
picking  up  the  baskets  again,  followed  the  women 
into  the  village. 

So  for  another  hour  came  parties  of  men  and  women 
and  children,  brown,  healthy,  strong  and  vigorous, 
carrying  their  daily  offerings  to  the  King  of  fish  and 


24  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

fowl  and  wild  pigeons,  and  baked  pigs  and  young 
coconuts,  and  bananas  and  other  fruits  of  the  rich  and 
fertile  Kusaie. 

Then,  when  the  last  of  them  had  come  and  gone, 
the  slave-girl  Sipi  put  a  small  conch  shell  to  her  lips 
and  blew  a  note,  and  men  and  women — slaves  like 
herself — appeared  from  the  rear  of  the  house  and 
carried  the  baskets  away  to  the  King's  cook-houses. 

This  was  the  daily  life  of  Lela.  At  the  very  break 
of  dawn,  when  the  trees  and  grass  were  heavy  with  the 
dews  of  the  night,  and  the  flocks  of  mountain  parrots 
screamed  shrilly  at  the  rising  sun  and  the  wild  boar 
scurried  away  to  his  forest  lair,  the  people  were  up  and 
at  work  among  their  plantations  or  out  upon  the  blue 
expanse  of  Lela  Harbour  in  their  canoes.  For  though 
there  was  no  need  for  them  to  do  but  the  merest 
semblance  of  toil,  yet  it  was  and  always  had  been  the 
custom  of  the  land  for  each  family  to  bring  a  daily  gift 
of  food  to  the  King.  Sometimes  if  a  whaleship  lay 
outside  the  harbour  the  King  would  take  all  they 
brought,  to  sell  to  the  ship  in  exchange  for  guns  and 
powder,  and  bright  Turkey  red  cloth  ;  but  beyond  this 
he  took  but  little  of  all  that  they  gave  him  day  after 
day.  They  were  a  happy,  contented  race,  and  their 
land  was  a  land  of  wondrous  fertility  and  smiling 
plenty. 

Sometimes,  even  in  those  far-off  days,  a  whale- 
ship  cruising  north-westwards  to  the  Moluccas,  or 
the  coast  of  Japan,  would  sail  close  in,  back  her 
mainyard  and  send  her  boats  ashore  and  wait  till 
they  returned  laden  to  the  gunwales  with  turtle, 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  25 

yams  and  fruit.  Dearly  would  the  crew — as  they 
gazed  upon  the  bright  beaches  and  the  thickly- 
clustered  groves  of  palms  amid  which  nestled  the 
gray  roofs  of  thatch — have  liked  the  ship  to  have 
sailed  in,  and  heard  the  cable  rattle  through  the 
hawse-pipes  as  her  anchor  plunged  through  the 
glassy  depths  of  Lela  Harbour.  But  Lela  was 
seldom  entered  by  a  ship  of  any  size.  Her  boats 
might  come  in  if  the  captain  so  choose,  and  the 
rough,  reckless  seamen  might  wander  to  and  fro 
among  the  handsome,  brown-skinned  people  and 
make  sailors'  love  to  the  laughing  Kusaie  maidens 
till  the  ship  fired  a  gun  for  them  to  return ;  but  the 
ship  herself  dared  not  enter.  Not  that  there  was 
danger  of  treachery  from  the  people,  but  because  or 
the  narrow,  tortuous  passage  and  the  fierce,  swift 
current  that  ever  eddied  and  swirled  through  its 
reef-bound  sides.  Once,  indeed,  in  those  olden  days 
the  captain  of  an  English  whaleship,  that  lay-to 
outside,  had  seen  a  small  schooner  lying  snugly 
moored  abreast  of  the  King's  house,  and  had  boldly 
sailed  his  own  ship  in  and  anchored  beside  the  little 
trading  vessel.  In  a  week  a  dozen  of  his  crew  had 
deserted,  lured  away  from  the  toils  of  a  sailor's  life 
by  the  smiles  of  the  Kusaie  girls.  Then  he  tried 
to  get  away  before  he  lost  any  more  men.  Three 
times  he  tried  to  tow  his  ship  out  with  her  five 
boats,  and  thrice,  to  the  secret  joy  of  the  Kusaie 
people  and  his  crew,  had  he  to  return  and  anchor 
again  ;  at  the  fourth  attempt  the  ship  struck  and 
went  to  pieces  on  the  reef. 

In  those  wild  days,  and  for  long  years  afterwards, 
there  were  some  five  or  six  white  men  living  on  Kusaie. 


26  In  the  (W,  Beach-combing  Days. 

They  were  of  that  class  of  wanderers  who  are  to 
be  met  with  even  now  among  the  little  known 
Caroline  and  Pelew  Groups  and  on  some  of  the 
isolated  islands  of  the  North  Pacific.  Of  those 
that  lived  on  Kusaie,  however,  our  story  has  to 
do  with  but  one,  an  old  and  almost  decrepid  sailor 
named  Charles  Westall,  who  then  lived  at  Lela 
under  the  protection  of  Togusa,  as  he  had  lived 
under  the  protection  of  that  chief's  father  thirty 
years  before.  With  those  white  men  who  lived  in  the 
three  other  districts  of  the  island  he  had  had  no  com- 
munication for  nearly  ten  years,  although  he  was 
separated  from  them  but  half  a  day's  journey  by  boat 
or  canoe  ;  not  that  he  did  not  desire  to  see  them, 
but  simply  because  the  intense  jealousy  that  pre- 
vailed between  the  various  native  chiefs  who  ruled 
over  these  districts  made  visiting  a  matter  of  danger 
and  possible  bloodshed.  Each  chief  was  extremely 
jealous  of  his  white  protege,  who,  although  he  was 
exceedingly  well  treated  and  lived  on  the  fat  of  the 
land,  was  yet  kept  under  a  friendly  but  rigid  sur- 
veillance lest  he  should  be  tempted  to  leave  his 
own  district  and  settle  in  another. 

Westall,  therefore,  as  his  years  and  infirmities 
increased,  resigned  himself  to  the  knowledge  that 
except  when  a  ship  might  call  at  Lela,  he  would 
not  be  likely  to  ever  converse  again  in  his  mother 
tongue  with  men  of  his  own  colour.  He  was,  al- 
though an  uneducated  man,  one  of  singular  energy 
and  discernment,  and  had  during  his  forty  years' 
residence  on  the  island  acquired  a  considerable  in- 
fluence over  the  chief  Togusa  and  the  leading 
native  families.  He  was  by  trade  a  ship's  carpenter, 


In  the  Old)  Beach-combing  Days.  27 

and,  attracted  by  the  intelligence  of  the  natives  and 
the  professions  of  friendship  made  to  him  by  Togusa's 
father,  had  deserted  from  his  ship  to  live  among 
them.  Unlike  many  of  his  class,  he  was  neither  a 
drunkard  nor  a  ruffian  ;  and  eventually  marrying  a 
daughter  of  one  of  the  minor  chiefs  of  Lela,  he  had 
settled  down  on  the  island  for  a  lifelong  residence. 
As  the  years  went  by  and  his  family  increased,  so 
did  his  status  and  influence  with  the  natives,  and  at 
the  time  of  our  story  he  lived  in  semi-European 
style  in  Lela  village,  about  a  stone's  throw  from 
the  house  of  Togusa.  He  had  now  some  twenty 
or  thirty  children  by  his  five  wives — for  in  accord- 
ance with  native  custom  he  had  to  increase  the 
number  of  his  wives  as  his  wealth  and  influence 
grew — and  these  had  mostly  intermarried  with  natives 
of  pure  blood,  so  that  in  course  of  years  the  old 
English  sailor's  household  resembled  that  of  some 
Scriptural  patriarch  who  was  honoured  in  the  land. 

Early  in  the  morning  on  the  day  following  the 
scene  described  at  the  King's  house,  old  Westall 
was  sitting  outside  his  boatshed  smoking  his  pipe 
and  watching  some  of  his  white-brown  grand-children 
at  play,  when  a  young  native  girl  came  quickly  along 
the  groves  of  breadfruit  and  coconut  and  called  out 
that  she  had  news  for  him — a  ship,  she  said,  was  in 
sight. 

"  Come  thou  inside,  little  one,"  said  the  old  sailor, 
kindly,  speaking  in  the  Kusaie  tongue.  (Indeed  he 
had  but  seldom  occasion  to  speak  English.) 

The  girl  was  Niya,  the  niece  of  Sikra,  and  was  be- 
trothed to  Ted,  one  of  old  Westall's  younger  sons. 
She  was  about  fifteen  or  so,  and  was  possessed  of 


28  In  the  Old^  Beach-combing  Days. 

that  graceful  carriage  and  those  faultlessly  straight 
features  common  to  women  of  the  Micronesian 
Islands. 

Seating  herself  on  the  ground  beside  the  old  man, 
and,  in  accordance  with  native  fashion,  not  deigning 
to  notice  her  lover,  who  was  that  moment  at  work 
in  his  father's  boatshed,  the  girl  told  Westall  that  she 
and  some  other  girls  had  seen  a  small  white-painted 
ship  about  four  miles  off,  making  towards  Lela. 

The  old  sailor's  face  instantly  became  troubled 
and  he  called  to  his  son  to  come  to  him. 

"Ted,"  said  the  old  man,  speaking  in  English, 
"  that  mission  ship  has  come  at  last,  and  now 
there's  goin'  to  be  a  bit  of  trouble.  You  see  if 
there  won't." 

Edward  Westall,  a  short,  thick-set  youth  of  twenty, 
with  a  darker  complexion  than  that  of  the  girl  who  sat 
at  his  father's  feet,  leant  upon  the  adze  he  carried  and 
said  in  his  curious  broken  English :  "  How  you  know 
she's  mission'ry  ?  Has  you  ever  seen  mission'ry 
ship  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  old  man,  shortly  ;  "  an'  I  don't 
want  to  see  one.  But  I  knew  it's  a  mission'ry  ship. 
She's  painted  white,  an'  I  heard  from  Captain  Deaver 
of  the  Hattie  K.  Deaver  that  there  was  a  mission  ship 
at  Honolulu  two  years  ago,  an'  she  was  painted  white, 
an'  was  comin'  here  right  through  this  group,  blarst 
her  ! " 

"  Well,  an*  what  you  goin'  to  do  ?  You  think 
Togusa  goin'  to  let  a  mission'ry  come  ashore  an* 
live  ? " 

"That's  just  what  I  don't  know,  boy.  Togusa  likes 
the  white  men,  an'  maybe  he  may  take  to  these 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  29 

Yankee  psalm-singers.  An'  if  he  does,  it  just  means 
that  you  an*  me  an'  all  the  rest  of  us  will  have  to 
clear  out  of  here  and  seek  for  a  livin'  elsewheres.  They 
is  hungry  beggars,  these  mission'ries,  and  drives  every 
other  white  man  away  from  wherever  they  settles 
down.  An'  I'm  gettin'  too  old  now  to  be  badgered 
about  by  people  like  them." 

"W'y  don'  you  go  and  tell  Togusa  to  keep  'em 
from  comin'  ashore  ?  " 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  No  good,  boy.  I 
managed  to  block  one  mission'ry  from  landing  here — 
that  feller  that  came  here  in  the  Shawnee  whaler  when 
you  was  a  babby — an'  I've  always  been  telling  Togusa 
that  it  will  be  a  bad  day  for  him  when  he  lets  one  of 
them  come  here,  but,"  and  he  shook  his  head  again, 
"he's  a  weak  man,  and  just  like  a  child.  His  father 
was  another  sort,  an'  had  a  head  chock  full  o'  sense." 

For  a  moment  the  old  seaman  seemed  sunk  in 
thought,  and  then  suddenly  aroused  himself. 

"Ted,"  he  said,  "just  you  go  along  with  Niya  to 
her  uncle  Sikra  and  tell  him  an'  Jorani  an'  the  other 
big  chiefs  to  come  here  an'  have  a  talk  with  me. 
Togusa  is  sick,  an'  so  I  can't  get  in  to  see  him." 

Throwing  down  his  adze,  the  young  half-caste 
beckoned  to  the  girl  to  rise  and  come  with  him. 
With  that  passive  obedience  common  among  women 
of  her  race  when  spoken  to  by  a  man,  the  girl  instantly 
rose  and  followed  her  betrothed  husband,  who,  from 
the  broad  blue  stripes  of  tattooing  that  covered  his 
naked  arms  and  thighs,  would  never  have  been  taken 
for  anything  else  but  a  pure-blooded  native. 

Then  old  Westall,  still  wearing  a  troubled  look 
upon  his  brown  and  wrinkled  face,  walked  slowly  back 


30  In  the  QA/,  Beach-combing  Days. 

to  his  thatched  dwelling  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  the 
native  chiefs  to  talk  with  them  over  the  danger  that 
— from  his  point  of  view — menaced  them  all. 

Four  miles  away  the  mission  brig — for  such  indeed 
was  the  strange  ship — was  sailing  slowly  along  the  pre- 
cipitous northern  coast  of  the  island.  On  the  poop 
deck  were  four  clerical  gentlemen  clothed  in  heavy 
black,  and  each  bore  in  his  face  an  expression  of  great 
interest  as  the  various  points  of  the  beautiful  island 
opened  to  their  view. 

Seated  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  as  befitted  his 
position  and  dignity  as  their  leader,  was  the  Reverend 
Gilead  Bawl.  He  was  a  man  of  nearly  six  feet  in 
height,  with  shaven  upper  lip  and  white  beard,  and 
his  eyes,  keen,  cold  and  gray,  had  for  the  past  ten 
minutes  been  bent  over  a  copy  of  the  Scriptures,  out- 
spread upon  his  huge  knees. 

Of  his  four  colleagues  all  that  need  be  said  is  that  in 
manner  of  speech,  dress,  and  appearance  generally  they 
were  minor  editions  of  the  Reverend  Bawl.  They 
were  but  strangers  in  the  Islands,  having  only  arrived 
at  Honolulu  from  Boston  six  months  previously  and 
had  been  selected  by  their  principal — the  Reverend 
Gilead — to  accompany  him  on  his  present  mission. 

Presently  Mr.  Bawl  closed  the  book  and  rising  from 
his  seat  walked  up  to  the  captain,  who  was  anxiously 
scrutinising  the  line  of  reef  along  which  the  mission 
brig  was  sailing. 

"  Friend,"  said  he,  placing  his  hand  with  condes- 
cending familiarity  on  the  captain's  shoulder,  and 
speaking  in  soft,  gentle  tones,  "it  hath  pleased 
Gawd  to  bless  us  with  a  prosperous  v'yage  to  this, 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  31 

the  first  cawner  of  the  Vineyard,  and  ere  we  sail 
into  the  haven  before  us  and  ventoor  our  lives 
among  the  ragin'  heathen,  it  would  be  well  for 
us  to  stay  the  ship  awhile  while  the  brethren  and 
myself,  together  with  the  mariners  of  this  chosen 
bark,  render  up  our  offerins'  of  praise  and  thanks- 
givin'  for  the  manifold  mercies  vouchsafed  to  us 
upon  the  stormy  ocean." 

A  subdued  murmur  of  approval  came  from  one 
of  the  younger  missionaries,  who,  clasping  his  hands 
together,  gazed  with  a  rapt  expression  at  Mr. 
Bawl. 

The  captain  of  the  brig  looked  and  felt  uncom- 
fortable. "  Jest  as  you  please,  sir,  but  I  would  like 
to  get  the  ship  to  an  anchor  as  quickly  as  possible. 
I've  never  been  here  before  and  this  Strong's  Islander 
we  have  brought  with  us  seems  kinder  stupid,  and 
I  really  believe  the  creature  doesn't  know  enough 
for  me  to  take  the  ship  in  by  his  directions.  I  guess 
he's  a  fool " 

The  missionary's  face  assumed  a  loftily  severe 
expression. 

"Captain  Branden,  you  surprise  me — nay,  more, 
you  pain  me.  This  young  man  " — and  he  placed  his 
large,  coarse  hand  on  the  head  of  an  undersized  native, 
clothed  like  himself,  in  a  long  black  coat  and  wearing 
a  stovepipe  hat  with  a  wide,  battered  rim — "you  do, 
indeed,  pain  me  when  you  speak  of  this  pious  young 
man — one  of  Gawd's  ministers — as  a  fool." 

The  native  he  indicated,  who,  twelve  months  before, 
had  been  one  of  the  crew  of  an  American  whale- 
ship,  but  was  now  the  Reverend  Purity  Lakolalai, 
turned  a  dull,  stupid  face  upon  the  captain,  and, 


32  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

encouraged  by  the  protecting  glance  of  his  white 
leader,  muttered  something  under  his  breath. 

"  Well,  I  meant  no  offence,  Mr.  Bawl  ;  but  I  feel 
somewhat  anxious  about  getting  to  an  anchor  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"  Captain  Branden,"said  the  missionary,  pompously, 
"  it  is  my  wish  and  the  wish  of  the  brethren  with  me 
that  we  offer  up  supplication  for  the  success  of  our 
cause.  Will  you  kindly  call  the  mariners  to  the  stern 
of  the  ship,  so  that  they  may  join  with  us  in  devo- 
tional exercises  befittin'  the  occasion  ? " 

The  master  of  the  brig  nodded  ;  and  muttering  the 
words  "  darned  rot "  under  his  breath  gave  the  order 
for  the  crew  to  lay  aft. 

It  is  necessary  to  explain  that  the  presence  of  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Bawl  and  his  brethren  was  largely  due 
to  the  fact  that  twelve  months  previously  the  Reverend 
Purity  Lakolalai — then  a  native  sailor — had  run  away 
from  his  ship  at  Honolulu.  He  was  a  low-caste 
Strong's  Islander,  and  spoke  whaleship  English 
fluently.  By  some  means  he  came  under  the  notice 
of  the  Reverend  Gilead,  who,  learning  that  he  was  a 
native  of  Kusaie,  immediately  set  about  his  conversion, 
with  the  result  that  Lakolalai,  being  in  a  certain  sense 
a  man  of  the  world  and  deeply  sensible  of  the  material 
advantages  to  be  derived  from  his  new  friends,  ex- 
pressed the  deepest  grief  at  his  own  and  his  country- 
men's ignorance  of  the  truths  of  the  gospel.  In  the 
course  of  a  week  or  two  reports  were  sent  home  to 
Boston  that,  by  a  marvellous  dispensation  of  Pro- 
vidence, an  intelligent  young  "chief"  had  been 
rescued  from  the  degrading  life  of  a  whaler's  foc's'cle, 
and  had  "greatly  moved"  the  American  brethren  at 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  33 

Honolulu  by  his  pictures  of  the  hopeless  savagery  and 
sinful  customs  of  his  people.  Furthermore,  he  had 
become  "  concerned  "  for  his  soul's  welfare,  and  was 
now  at  that  time  "eagerly  imbibing  the  Truth  with 
tears  of  thankfulness."  As  a  natural  corollary  to  this 
intelligence  subscriptions  were  asked  for  to  send  out  a 
band  of  brethren  to  plant  the  Word  on  the  heathen 
field  of  Kusaie.  In  due  course  the  subscriptions  and 
brethren  came,  and  then  followed  the  imposing  func- 
tion of  ordaining  Lakolalai,  formerly  a  slave  and  a 
"  burning  brand,"  a  minister  of  the  American  Board 
of  Missions.  Then  came  the  departure  of  the  mission 
brig  from  Honolulu  with  the  missionary  party  just 
described. 

An  hour  afterward,  the  devotions  concluded,  the 
brig  sailed  into  Lela  Harbour  and  dropped  anchor  off 
the  King's  house. 

•  •  •  •  • 

At  eight  o'clock  next  morning  nearly  a  thousand 
natives  were  assembled  on  the  gravelled  space  in  front 
of  the  King's  house,  all  waiting  to  see  the  white 
strangers  land.  Already  a  rumour  had  gone  forth  that 
they  were  the  bearers  of  a  message  from  a  great  king 
to  their  own  chief  Togusa,  but  who  the  white  king 
was  and  what  the  message  was  about  none  knew. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  boat  left  the  ship  and  rowed  to 
the  beach,  and  four  white  men,  wearing  stovepipe 
hats  and  carrying  white  umbrellas,  stepped  out  and 
walked  up  to  the  King's  gateway ;  at  their  heels 
followed  Mr.  Lakolalai,  dressed  in  exactly  the  same 
manner,  and  carrying,  in  addition  to  his  umbrella,  a 
large,  heavy  volume. 

At  the  entrance  to  the  King's  grounds  the  party 
4 


34  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

halted,  and  then  some  discussion  took  place  between 
them  and  Brother  Lakolalai,  who  seemed  inclined  to 
fall  back. 

" '  Tis  but  the  weakness  of  the  flesh,"  said  Mr. 
Bawl  to  his  brethren;  "our  brother  is  somewhat 
afraid  of  venturing  into  the  presence  of  this  pore 
heathen  king." 

"Yes,"  said  Brother  Lakolalai,  with  emphasis,  and, 
in  his  excitement,  reverting  to  his  whaleship  English. 
"  Me  'fraid.  You  see,  I  no  belong  to  Lela  ;  I  belong 

to  Utwe — on  other  side  of  this  island.  By 1  afraid 

to  go  inside  King's  house  here.  He  d big  king 

and  break  my  head." 

A  pained  look  came  into  the  brethren's  eyes,  but 
the  Reverend  Gilead  at  any  rate  was  not  wanting  in 
courage,  and  seizing  the  Reverend  Purity  Lakolalai  by 
the  arm  he  drew  him  along  with  him.  Followed  by 
the  brethren,  they  ascended  the  steps  that  led  up  to 
the  King's  house,  and  in  another  moment  were  inside. 

The  room  was  a  very  large  one,  capable  of  holding 
half  the  population  of  the  village.  At  the  further 
end,  seated  upon  mats,  were  the  leading  chiefs.  Above 
them,  lying  upon  a  slightly  raised  couch,  was  Togusa, 
the  sick  chief.  He  was  a  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a 
thick  jet-black  beard  and  pale  features,  and  his  coun- 
tenance showed  traces  of  recent  illness. 

The  moment  the  missionaries  entered,  the  natives, 
who  were  gathered  outside,  followed  them  in,  the  men 
sitting  on  one  side  of  the  room,  the  women  on  the 
other.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Bawl  and  his  brethren  had  ap- 
proached within  a  few  feet  of  the  King,  the  missionary 
motioned  to  his  companions  to  stop,  and  advanced 
alone  with  hand  outstretched. 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  35 

"  You  are  King  Togusa ;  I  am  the  Reverend 
Gilead  Bawl,  and  I  bring  you  peace  beyond  price 
an'  a  message  from  the  King  ev  Kings." 

The  sick  chief  shook  his  head  feebly  in  return,  and 
failing  to  understand  Mr.  Bawl's  remark,  inquired  in 
broken  English  if  he  had  "come  to  buy  pigs  and 
yams." 

"  Not  pigs,  my  dear  brother,  nor  yet  yams  ;  but 
souls  ;  "  and  the  Reverend  Gilead  smiled  benignantly, 
and  then  with  the  rest  of  the  brethren  sat  down  upon 
the  rude  stool  to  which  the  King  motioned  them. 
The  Reverend  Purity  Lakolalai,  however,  sat  quite 
apart  from  them,  on  the  floor,  with  a  very  uneasy 
expression  on  his  face. 

For  a  moment  or  so  Togusa  spoke  in  an  undertone 
to  his  chiefs.  He  was  anxious  to  learn  the  motive  of 
the  white  men's  visit,  and  felt  that  his  limited 
knowledge  of  English  was  not  equal  to  the  task  ot 
carrying  on  a  conversation  with  them.  Presently,  how- 
ever, his  eye  lighted  up  when  he  saw,  coming  through 
the  doorway,  the  old  white  man,  Westall,  who  was 
attended  by  four  or  five  of  his  half-caste  sons. 

"  Tell  Challi r  to  come  and  talk  to  these  men  in 
their  own  tongue,"  he  said  to  one  of  those  of  his 
chiefs  who  sat  about  him. 

Dressed  in  his  seamen's  suit  of  blue  dungaree,  and 
holding  his  broad  palm-leaf  hat  in  his  hand,  the  old 
seaman  advanced  through  the  crowded  room,  and  first 
greeting  the  King  and  chiefs  in  the  native  language, 
he  turned  to  the  missionaries. 

"Good-day,  gentlemen.  My  name  is  Charlie 
Westall.  I  live  here.  The  King  wishes  me  to  ask 

1  Charlie. 


3  6  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

you  what  is  your  business  and  in  what  way  he  can 
serve  you.  You  see,  gentlemen,  he  doesn't  speak  but 
little  English,  and  so  he  wishes  me  to  talk  for 
him." 

Then  the  Reverend  Gilead  Bawl,  rising  to  his  feet, 
extended  his  right  hand,  and  pointing  a  large  forefinger 
at  the  old  white  man,  spoke. 

"  Old  man,  I  hev'  heerd  of  you.  You  are  one  ot 
those  unfor'nit  persons  who  are  out  of  the  Lord's  fold, 
and  whose  dangerous  and  pernicious  example  to  these 
pore  heathens  has  done  sich  harm.  You  may  tell  the 
King  from  me  that  I  cannot  talk  to  him  through  such 
a  wicked  man  as  you  air." 

Old  Westall  laughed  a  soft,  sarcastic  laugh. 
"Thank  ye,  sir,  I'll  tell  him  that,"  and  then, 
turning  to  the  King,  he  said — 

"  The  white  men  have  come  here  to  give  thee 
and  thy  people  a  new  religion  ;  but  he  will  not  talk  of 
it  to  thee,  O  Togusa,  by  my  lips." 

"  Why  is  that  ?  "  said  the  King,  mildly,  his  dark 
eyes  moving  alternately  from  the  face  of  the  missionary 
to  that  of  the  old  white  man. 

"  Because,  he  sayeth,  I  am  a  bad  and  wicked  man, 
and  have  taught  thee  and  thy  people  evil." 

The  King's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  and  he  made  a 
movement  as  if  he  would  spring  from  his  couch,  but 
in  an  instant  he  was  calm  again. 

"That  is  well,  Challi.  Let  him,  then,  if  he  mis- 
trusts thee,  find  some  one  else  to  tell  me  of  his 
business  here  in  Kusaie." 

"  The  King,  sir,"  said  old  Westall,  again  addressing 
himself  to  the  missionary,  "  says  that  he  is  willing  to 
hear  what  you  have  to  say — if  not  through  me,  then 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  37 

through  any  one  of  you  or  your  ship's  company  who 
can  speak  his  language." 

The  calm,  quiet  tones  of  the  old  seaman,  covering, 
as  it  did  the  rage  and  contempt  he  felt  for  the  person 
addressed,  deceived  not  only  the  Reverend  Mr.  Bawl 
and  his  colleagues,  but  their  coloured  brother,  the 
Reverend  Purity  Lakolalai  as  well.  He  now  stepped 
forward,  Bible  in  one  hand,  stovepipe  hat  in  the  other. 
An  encouraging  smile  on  Mr.  Bawl's  face  gave  him 
courage  to  proceed. 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  a  dead  and  ominous  silence, 
the  native  minister  addressed  the  King.  His  speech 
was  a  curious  one,  and  not  at  all  one  that  even  Mr. 
Bawl,  with  all  his  ministerial  pedantry  and  silly 
pomposity,  would  have  approved  of  had  he  known  its 
gist.  First,  he  warned  the  King  and  his  people  of  the 
wrath  to  come  if  they  continued  in  heathenism  ; 
secondly,  that  old  Westall  and  all  other  white  men 
but  missionaries  would  be  taken  away  by  a  man-of-war, 
and  cast  into  a  lake  of  burning  fire  called  Hell  ; 
thirdly,  that  the  good  and  chosen  people  lived  at 
Honolulu  only,  and  the  Reverend  Gilead  Bawl  was  a 
very  rich  man,  and  the  friend  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States  and  God  ;  fourthly,  that  if  TogusS, 
would  cast  away  his  idols,  and  keep  but  one  wife,  and 
take  the  missionaries  to  his  bosom,  that  he  would  not 
be  taken  away  to  the  lake  of  fire  with  the  bad  white 
men,  but  when  he  died  his  soul  would  be  taken  in  a 
man-of-war  to  Honolulu  first,  and  then  to  Boston,  to 
live  with  God  and  President  Andrew  Jackson  ;  fifthly, 
that  he,  Lakolalai,  had  been  a  very  bad  man,  but  now 
he  had  been  "  washed  "  and  was  filled  with  a  powerful 
"ejon"  (witchcraft)  which  would  make  him  live  for 
ever. 


38  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

With  his  chin  supported  on  his  right  hand  the  King 
of  Lela  listened  with  unmoved  countenance  to  the 
native  minister's  speech.  Then,  when  he  had  finished, 
he  turned  to  Sikra,  his  favourite  chief. 

"  Who  is  this  man  ?  "  he  asked,  and  at  the  savage 
energy  of  his  tones  the  native  minister  quailed. 

"He  is  Lakolalai,  a  pig  (a  slave)  from  Utwe.  He 
went  away  from  here  two  years  ago." 

"Good,"  and  a  grim  smile  stole  over  the  King's 
features.  "  Thou  hast  heard  what  he  has  said,  and  the 
lies  he  has  told  me.  Does  he  and  these  foolish  white 
men  think  that  I,  Togusa,  who  ever  since  my  birth 
have  known  white  men,  have  not  heard  of  these 
wizards  they  call  missionaries,  who  would  steal  the 
hearts  of  my  people  from  their  gods,  and  make  slaves 
of  them  to  the  god  who  rules  over  the  lake  of  fire — 
bah  ! "  and  he  spat  fiercely  on  the  ground,  and  then 
shook  his  hand  threateningly  at  the  missionaries. 
"  Away  from  here  I  tell  thee.  I  have  heard  of  thee 
and  know  of  thy  wizardry.  Shall  I,  Togusa,  be  a  like 
fool  to  Kamehameha  of  Hawaii x  and  yield  up  my 
country  and  my  wives  and  my  slaves  to  such  dogs  as 
thee  ?  Go,  get  thee  away  to  some  other  land  while 
thy  lives  are  yet  safe.  But  yet  " — and  here  he  shot  a 
quick  glance  at  old  Westall — "  shalt  thou  stay  here 
awhile  and  see  how  Togusa  shall  do  justice  upon  this  dog 
of  Utwe,  this  Lakolalai,  who  comes  into  the  presence 
of  the  King  of  Lela  and  threatens  him  with  the  ven- 
geance of  the  Christ  God,  and  the  Lake  of  Boiling 
Fire.  Take  him,  men  of  Lela,  and  bind  him  like  as 
a  hog  is  bound  for  the  slaughter." 

But  with  a  wild,  despairing  cry  the  native  minister 

*  The  King  of  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  39 

had  thrown  himself  at  the  King's  feet,  and  was  plead- 
ing for  mercy,  while  from  the  assembled  crowd  of 
people  there  came  a  low,  savage  murmur — the  desire 
for  vengeance  upon  a  slave  who  had  insulted  their 
King. 

"  Gentlemen " — and  old  Westall  advanced  to  the 
now  alarmed  missionaries — "  you  had  better  get  aboard 
again.  I  bear  you  no  ill-will  for  the  hard  words  you 
have  spoken,  but  you  have  come  upon  a  fool's  errand. 
The  King  will  have  no  missionaries  here." 

"Shameless  and  wicked  old  man,"  said  one  of  the 
younger  missionaries,  "  would  you  incite  these  raging 
heathens  to  deeds  of  bloodshed  ?  Think  you  that  we, 
the  ministers  of  God,  are  to  be  lightly  turned  away 
by  threats  ?  No  !  "  and  with  a  firm  hand  he  grasped 
Gilead  Bawl  by  the  arm.  "  I  for  one  shall  not  desert 
my  Master,  but  cheerfully  give  up  my  life  for  the 
Cause." 

With  a  contemptuous  smile  old  Westall  turned 
away  from  him  and  walked  over  to  and  stood  beside 
the  King.  Then  he  raised  his  hand. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  have  had  your  say.  Now  let  me 
have  mine.  There  is  no  danger  to  any  of  you — at 
least  to  any  of  you  who  are  white.  But  listen  ;  for 
forty  years  I  have  lived  here  among  these  people,  and 
as  long  as  I  do  live  here  no  mission'ry  shall  ever  set 
foot  again  on  this  island.  These  natives  may  all  go 
to  hell  as  you  say,  but  that  is  none  of  your  business — 
they've  been  goin'  there  cheerful  enough  for  the  last 
five  hundred  years.  Now,  don't  be  afraid,  no  one  is 
going  to  hurt  you,  but  the  King  wants  to  ask  you  a 
question  or  two  before  you  go." 

With  a  pale  face,  but  a  certain  amount  of  resolution 


40  In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days. 

in  his  cold  gray  eyes,  the  Reverend  Gilead  Bawl 
stepped  out  from  the  others  and  spoke  again  to  the 
King. 

"Beware,  O  Togusa,  of  this  old  man.  He  is  a 
bad  man,"  and  then  he  suddenly  ceased  as  the  King 
raised  himself  upon  his  tattooed  and  naked  arm. 

"  Christ-man,  answer  me  this.  This  dog  here" — 
and  he  pointed  scornfully  at  the  grovelling  figure  of 
the  native  minister — "  this  dog  sayeth  that  he  will  live 
for  ever  by  reason  of  the  new  faith  he  hath  gotten 
from  thee." 

"  Man,"  said  the  missionary,  springing  forward, 
after  old  Westall  had  interpreted  the  King's  words,  "  I 
implore  you,  nay,  command  you,  on  peril  of  the  loss 
of  your  immortal  soul,  to  give  this  unhappy  heathen 
my  true  answer.  Tell  him  that  Lakolalai,  God's 
minister,  will  have  eternal  life  hereafter,  even  if  these 
godless  heathens  now  take  his  life."" 

Then  Westall  turned  to  the  King. 

u  The  Christ-man  sayeth,  O  Togusa,  that  this  man, 
Lakolalai,  will  have  life  for  ever." 

"  Ha,"  said  Togusa,  "  now  shall  we  see  if  this  be 
true." 

Two  men  advanced,  and  seizing  the  native  minister, 
stood  him  upon  his  tremoling  feet. 

"Stand  aside,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,"  said  old 
Westall  quietly  to  the  missionaries.  They  moved 
aside,  and  then  Togusa,  calling  to  Sikra,  the  chief, 
pointed  to  the  wretched  Lakolalai. 

"  Take  thou  thy  spear,  Sikra,  and  thrust  it  through 
this  man's  body.  And  if  he  live,  then  shall  I  believe 
that  he  will  live  for  ever." 

And  Sikra,  with  a  fierce  smile,  seized  his  heavy, 


In  the  Old,  Beach-combing  Days.  41 

ebony  wood  spear,  and  as  he  raised  his  right  hand  and 
poised  the  weapon,  the  men  who  held  Lakolalai's  arms 
suddenly  stretched  them  widely  apart. 

The  spear  sped  from  Sikra's  hand,  and  spinning 
through  the  convert's  body,  fell  near  the  feet  of  the 
Reverend  Gilead  Bawl  and  his  brethren  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room. 

•  •  •  •  • 

In  another  hour  the  mission  ship  was  under  weigh 
again,  and  old  Westall  was  seated  at  home  smoking 
his  pipe  and  playing  with  his  grandchildren,  and 
smiling  inwardly  as  he  glanced  seaward  and  saw  the 
white  sails  of  the  brig  far  away  to  the  westward. 

But,  after  all,  the  visit  of  the  mission  ship  was  long 
remembered  by  the  people  of  Kusaie,  and  for  their 
wickedness  were  they  sorely  afflicted  ;  for  the  gar- 
ments of  the  late  Reverend  Purity  Lakolalai  were  given 
by  Togusa  to  one  of  his  favourite  slaves,  who  soon 
afterwards  died  of  measles,  and  in  less  than  a  month 
seven  hundred  other  godless  heathens  followed  him, 
and  old  Charlie  Westall,  with  Ted  and  Niya  his  wife, 
and  his  maid-servants  and  man-servants  and  all  that 
was  his  cleared  away  from  the  disease-stricken  island, 
and  sailed  in  search  of  a  new  land  called  Ponape,  which 
lieth  far  to  the  westward. 


MRS.  MALLESON'S  RIVAL 


Mrs.   Malleson  s  Rival 

JIM  MALLESON  lived  on  Tarawa,  one  of  the  Gilbert 
Islands,  in  Equatorial  Polynesia.  He  was  a  tall,  thin, 
melancholy  looking  man,  with  pale  blue  eyes  and  a 
straggling  sandy  beard  that  grew  upon  his  long  chin 
in  a  half-hearted,  indefinite  sort  of  way.  His  trading 
station  was  situated  at  the  most  northerly  point  of  the 
whole  atoll — a  place  where  the  thin  strip  of  low-lying 
sandy  soil  that  belted  the  blue  waters  of  Tarawa 
Lagoon  was  narrowed  down  to  a  few  hundred  yards 
in  width — barely  sufficient,  one  would  imagine,  to 
prevent  the  thundering  breakers  that  flung  themselves 
against  the  weather  side  of  the  island  from  hurtling 
through  the  thinly-growing  coconut  and  pandanus 
groves,  and  pouring  over  into  the  calm  waters  of  the 
inland  sea,  carrying  everything,  including  Malleson's 
ramshackle  house,  before  them.  Denison,  the  super- 
cargo of  the  Indiana^  had,  indeed,  mentioned  the 
possibility  of  such  an  occurrence  to  Malleson  one  day, 
and  offered  to  shift  him  further  down  the  lagoon,  but 
his  offer  was  declined — he  was  quite  satisfied,  he  said, 
to  stay  where  he  was  and  take  his  chance. 

For  some  unknown  reason  Malleson,  although  on 
perfectly  friendly  terms  with  the  four  or  five  other 
white  men  who  lived  on  Apiang,  the  nearest  island  in 

45 


46  Mrs.  Mallesons  Rival. 

the  Gilbert  Group  to  Tarawa,  yet  seldom  associated 
with  them.  He  was  the  only  white  man  on  Tarawa, 
and,  although  the  two  islands  are  not  a  day's  sail  apart, 
he  had  never  raised  energy  enough  to  sail  his  boat  over 
to  Apiang  and  return  the  many  visits  he  had  had  from 
the  traders  there.  But,  in  spite  of  his  owl-like 
solemnity,  he  was  not  by  any  means  unsociable,  and 
would  occasionally  unbend  to  a  certain  extent.  One 
curious  thing  about  him  was  that,  although  he  had 
now  been  living  alone  on  Tarawa  for  two  years,  he 
had  never  been  married.  Now,  for  a  trader  to  remain 
single  was,  in  native  eyes,  extremely  undignified,  and 
not  calculated  to  raise  him  in  public  estimation  ;  any 
white  man  who  could  show  such  a  disregard  of  the 
conventionalities  of  native  life  and  custom,  necessarily 
became  an  object  of  suspicion  to  the  native  mind. 
However,  as  he  was  a  quiet,  non-interfering  man,  who 
quarrelled  with  no  one,  conducted  himself  with  the 
strictest  propriety,  and  refrained  from  cheating  in  the 
pursuit  of  his  business,  he  gradually  begat  confidence 
and  respect  among  the  fierce,  warlike  Tarawans ;  so 
much  so  that  at  the  end  of  two  years  he  had  become 
the  most  prosperous  trader  in  the  Gilbert  Group,  and 
his  huge,  ill-built  storehouse  was  generally  filled  to 
bursting  with  copra  (dried  coconut)  and  sharks'  fins 
whenever  a  trading  ship  entered  the  lagoon  and 
dropped  anchor  off  his  station.^  So  steadily  did  his 
business  and  his  reputation  for  fair  dealing  increase  with 
the  natives,  that,  after  a  time,  fleets  of  canoes  would 
visit  Tarawa,  coming,  some  from  Marakei,  fifty  miles 
to  the  north,  and  some  from  the  great  lagoon  island  of 
Apamama,  a  hundred  miles  to  the  south-east,  bringing 
with  them  their  produce  of  dried  coconut  to  be  ex- 


Mrs.  Malleson  s  Rival.  47 

changed  with  the  white  man  for  coloured  prints, 
calicoes,  arms,  tobacco,  and  liquor. 

The  white  men  living  on  Apiang  and  the  other 
atolls  in  the  group  could  not  but  experience  a  feeling 
of  vexation  that  Malleson,  who,  as  they  said,  was  the 
laziest  man  in  the  South  Seas,  should  divert  so  much 
custom  and  so  many  dollars  from  their  islands  to  his. 
Day  after  day  they  would  see  large  sailing  canoes 
filled  with  dried  coconut  and  other  native  produce 
sailing  past  their  very  doors  bound  to  Malleson's  place  ; 
but  being  on  the  whole  a  decent  lot  of  men,  they  bore 
their  successful  rival  no  ill-will,  accepted  matters 
(after  a  time)  philosophically,  and  lived  in  the  hopes 
of  Malleson  being  found  cheating  by  the  natives,  and 
either  getting  himself  tabooed  from  further  trading,  or 
being  warned  off  the  island  by  the  chiefs. 

So  one  day,  after  business  jealousies  had  quite 
subsided,  they  again  manned  their  boats  and  visited 
him,  and,  knowing  that  many  months  had  passed  since 
a  ship  had  called  at  Tarawa,  they  bore  with  them  the 
gift  of  friendship  peculiar  to  the  country — some  half 
a  dozen  or  so  of  Hollands  gin — in  order  to  cheer  up 
his  lonely  existence  by  endeavouring  to  make  him 
drunk.  But  in  this  they  had  always  failed  on  previous 
occasions,  for  the  more  liquor  he  consumed  the  more 
melancholy  and  owl-like  of  visage  he  became.  They 
had  all  also,  individually  and  severally,  endeavoured  to 
induce  Malleson  to  give  up  his  single  life  and  permit 
them  or  one  of  the  chiefs  of  Tarawa  to  find  him  a 
suitable  wife  from  among  the  many  hundreds  of  young 
marriageable  girls  on  the  island.  But  their  kindly 
intentions  proved  unavailing,  for  Malleson  distinctly 
declared  his  intention  of  remaining  as  he  was,  and  put 


48  Mrs.  Malleson  s  Rival. 

some  little  warmth  into  his  manner  of  declaring  that 
rather  than  have  a  native  wife  forced  upon  him,  he 
would  barricade  his  house. 

"  I  don't  want  any  native  wife,  boys,"  he  would  say, 
solemnly.  "I  dessay  you  chaps  mean  well,  an* 
wouldn't  see  me  marry  a  girl  as  wasn't  no  good,  an' 
means  to  try  and  make  me  feel  more  comfortable  ;  but 
I  ain't  agoin'  to  do  it." 

But  a  plot  against  his  further  celibacy  had  been 
formed,  not,  it  must  be  mentioned,  without  ulterior 
views  by  one  of  the  participants  therein,  Mr.  Andy 
O'Rourke,  a  genial,  rollicking  trader  on  the  island  of 
Apiang.  He  was  agent  for  a  firm  trading  in  opposi- 
tion to  Malleson's  employers,  had  a  large  half-caste 
family,  and  a  very  extensive  native  connection 
generally,  both  socially  and  in  business,  and  for  a  long 
time  past  had  cogitated  upon  the  possibility  of  joining 
his  fortunes  with  those  of  his  successful  rival,  to  his 
own  particular  advantage  financially,  and  that  ot 
Malleson  from  a  domestic  point  of  view.  In  short, 
he  intended  to  get  Malleson  married,  and  had  already 
made  up  his  mind  that  Tera,  his  wife's  sister,  was 
eminently  calculated  to  fill  the  position  of  Mrs. 
Jimmy  Malleson.  But  to  avoid  any  suspicion  of 
underhand  work  he  determined  to  so  arrange  matters 
that  no  one  of  his  fellow-traders  should  ever  suspect 
that  he  had  any  preconceived  idea  of  making  Malleson 
his  brother-in-law,  and  set  about  his  plans  in  a 
thoroughly  open,  genial  Irish  manner. 

He  had,  therefore,  proposed  that  on  the  present  trip 
to  Malleson's  they  should  as  a  matter  of  conjugal  and 
family  duty  take  their  wives,  children,  and  relatives 
with  them. 


Mrs.  Mai le sorts  Rival.  49 

"  We  ought  to  give  the  women  a  run  over  to 
Malleson's,  boys,"  he  said,  when  the  trip  was  first 
proposed.  "It's  the  gogo  (mutton-bird)  season  over 
at  Tarawa  just  now,  and  the  women  and  children 
would  enjoy  themselves  fine  getting  the  eggs  and 
birds.  You'll  bring  your  wife,  Davy,  won't  you  ? 
Tom  French's  missus  is  coming,  and  a  couple  of  his 
daughters  ;  and  my  wife  wants  to  bring  her  sister  with 
her.  What  d'ye  say,  boys  ?  " 

So  over  they  came,  each  trader  sailing  his  own  boat, 
and  carrying  with  him  his  native  wife  and  half-caste 
family,  all  bent  upon  having  a  thoroughly  good  time 
at  Tarawa,  for  the  people  of  the  two  islands  were  now 
at  peace.  Seated  aft  in  Andy's  boat,  between  his  wife 
and  himself,  was  the  pretty  Tera,  who  had  been  well 
tutored  by  her  sister  Lebonnai  in  the  part  she  was  to 
play  in  captivating  the  heart  of  Malleson.  And 
although  Tera  had  frankly  admitted  that  she  had 
looked  to  get  a  handsomer  and  younger  husband  than 
the  one  her  brother-in-law  designed  for  her,  she  was  a 
dutiful  girl,  and  consented  to  sacrifice  herself  upon  the 
altar  of  family  affection  with  resigned  and  unobtrusive 
cheerfulness. 

As  the  boats,  with  their  snow-white  sails  bellying 
out  to  the  trade-wind,  sped  along  over  the  long  ocean 
swell,  Davy  Walsh,  whose  boat  was  nearest,  called 
out  to  Andy  (they  were  all  sailing  close  together) — 

**  I  wonder  how  old  Malleson's  piggy-wiggy  is 
getting  on  ? " 

A  general  laugh  followed,  for  Malleson's  affection 
for  his  pig  was  a  source  of  continual  amusement  to  his 
fellow-traders. 


50  Mrs.  Malleson  s  Rival. 

About  a  year  after  he  had  landed  on  Tarawa,  a 
passing  Puget  Sound  lumber  ship,  bound  to  the 
Australian  colonies,  had  hove-to  off  Malleson's  place 
for  an  hour  or  two.  He  had  boarded  her,  and  in 
exchange  for  some  young  coconuts  and  bananas,  the 
American  skipper  had  presented  him  with  a  pig  of  the 
male  sex,  informing  him  that  the  animal  was  of  a  high 
lineage  in  the  porcine  line.  Malleson  had  been  much 
struck  with  the  promising  proportions  and  haughty 
but  reserved  demeanour  of  the  creature  as  it  poked 
about  the  deck,  and  at  once  conceived  the  idea  of 
improving  the  breed  of  pigs  on  the  island — not,  of 
course,  from  disinterested  motives,  but  as  a  means  of 
adding  to  his  income. 

As  time  went  on  the  pig  grew  and  throve 
amazingly,  and  the  fame  of  the  beast  spread  through- 
out the  Gilbert  Group  ;  and  Malleson's  anticipations 
with  regard  to  his  own  profit  in  possessing  such  an 
animal  were  amply  verified.  Natives  from  outlying 
villages,  and  finally  from  islands  a  hundred  miles 
distant,  came  to  look  at  his  pig,  and  a  deputation  of 
leading  old  men  (/.*.,  the  village  councillors)  from 
Apiang  visited  Malleson  with  the  object  of  conveying 
the  pig,  as  a  friendly  loan,  to  their  august  master,  the 
King.  But  to  this  he  would  not  consent,  pointing 
out  politely,  but  firmly  withal,  the  risks  attendant 
upon  carrying  such  a  valuable  animal  in  an  open  canoe 
a  distance  of  forty  miles  ;  besides  that,  he  had  become 
attached  to  the  creature,  he  said,  and  would  be  lonely 
without  him.  The  deputation  thanked  the  trader, 
and  withdrew. 

•  •  •  •  • 

As  the  visitors'  boats  sailed  across  the  lagoon,  and 


Mrs.  Mallesoris  Rival.  51 

brought-to  in  front  of  Malleson's  dilapidated  dwelling, 
the  trader  came  out  of  his  house,  and  walked  down  the 
beach  to  meet  them  ;  and  Andy  O'Rourke  noted  with 
envy  that  Malleson's  storehouses,  the  doors  of  which 
were  wide  open,  were  full  to  bursting  of  copra. 

"  Come  up  to  the  house,"  said  the  melancholy- 
looking  man,  shaking  hands  with  them  all  in  a  limp 
sort  of  manner.  "  My  boys  (servants)  will  bring 
your  traps  up  out  o*  the  boats  ;  but " — and  here  he 
glanced  dejectedly  at  the  women — "  I'm  afraid  that  my 
house  is  too  small  to  hold  you  all.  Perhaps  the 
women  and  children  wouldn't  mind  sleepin'  in  my 
boathouse  just  for  to-night.  To-morrow  I  can  get  a 
house  run  up  for  'em." 

"  That's  all  right,  old  chap,"  said  Andy,  slapping 
his  solemn-visaged  host  on  the  back  ;  "  but,  if  you 
don't  mind,  Lebonnai  and  her  sister  will  stay  with  me 
in  your  house.  You  see,  Tera — that's  her  coming  up 
now — was  a  bit  seasick  coming  over,  and  my  wife  got 
a  touch  of  the  sun  ;  they  are  both  complaining  a  bit. 
However,  they  won't  trouble  you  much.  Just  let  'em 
have  a  corner  to  themselves." 

"  'Tain't  much  of  a  place  for  women,"  said  Malleson, 
disconsolately,  as  he  looked  at  his  dirty,  untidy  sitting- 
room,  with  its  floor  covered  with  ragged,  worn-oui 
mats,  and  then  at  Lebonnai  and  Tera,  tall,  stately,  and 
graceful  in  their  white  muslin  gowns  and  broad 
Panama  hats.  "  You  see,  I  does  my  own  cookin',  and 
on'y  straightens  up  onst  a  week  or  so.  But  I'll  get 
some  o'  the  village  women  to  come  in  and  clean  up 
the  place  a  bit." 

"  No,  you  won't,  old  man,"  said  Andy  cheerfully  ; 
"  my  wife  has  brought  plenty  of  sleeping-mats,  and 


52  Mrs.  Ma  lie  sons  Rival. 

she  and  Tera — *  smart  girl  is  Tera — will  soon  fix  up 
a  place."  Andy  now  had  an  opening  to  let  Malleson 
see  what  a  handy  girl  Tera  was,  and  what  an  excellent 
housewife  she  would  make. 

So,  while  the  wily  Andy  and  Tom  French,  Dave 
Walsh,  and  Pedro  Calice  sat  outside  with  Malleson, 
and  smoked  and  drank  lager  beer  and  gin,  pretty 
Tera,  whose  mind  was  full  of  the  possibilities  of 
becoming  Mrs.  Malleson  and  pleasing  her  sister  and 
brother-in-law,  hustled  her  sister  about,  and  set  to 
work.  First  of  all,  though,  she  took  off  her  starched 
muslin  gown,  and  hung  it  up  carefully,  revealing  her 
shapely  figure  (clothed  in  but  a  short  skirt  of  pink 
print)  in  the  most  innocent  and  natural  manner 
possible.  Then  for  the  next  ten  minutes  she  and 
Lebonnai  were  busily  engaged  in  dragging  out  the 
dirty  old  mats,  and  replacing  them  with  clean  ones 
brought  from  the  boats,  clearing  off  the  awful 
collection  of  empty  salmon  and  sardine  tins  from  the 
soiled  table,  and  touching  up  the  room  here  and  there 
and  everywhere. 

"  He's  very  old-looking,  and  hath  weak,  watery 
eyes,"  whispered  Tera  to  her  sister,  who  was  carrying 
out  a  basket  full  of  debris  to  throw  away  on  the 
beach. 

"  Speak  low,  thou  little  fool  ;  he  may  hear  thee. 
And  what  if  he  is  old  and  watery-eyed  ?  Is  he  not  a 
white  man  and  rich,  and  with  a  good  character  ? " 

Tera  shrugged  her  smooth,  rounded  shoulders,  and 
went  on  sweeping,  glancing  now  and  then  at  the  long, 
awkward  figure  of  her  prospective  husband. 

"  Well,  old  man,"  said  Davy,  addressing  his  host, 
"  how's  business,  and  how's  the  pig  ?  " 


Mrs.  Mallesons  Rival.  53 

"Come  an' see  him,"  answered  Malleson  with  un- 
usual promptitude  ;  "  he's  lookin'  fine." 

The  traders  exchanged  sly,  amused  glances,  but  at 
once  rose  and  followed  him  to  a  little  compactly  built 
pig-pen  of  thick  coconut  logs,  which  was  sheltered 
from  sun  and  rain  by  a  wide  roof  of  pan  dan  us  thatch. 
Inside,  on  a  bed  of  clean  grass,  lay  an  enormous  black 
and  white  boar  pig,  asleep. 

This  was  "  Brian." 

"  He  don't  like  bein'  disturbed  too  soon  after  his 
breakfast,"  said  Malleson,  as  the  four  men  bent  over 
the  fence  and  gazed  at  the  recumbent  animal  ;  "  he 
gets  mad  sometimes,  an'  don't  eat." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  French,  with  an  appearance  of 
deep  interest. 

"  Yes.  You  see  he's  got  very  reg'lar  habits,  an' 
don't  like  bein'  worried  after  a  meal.  But  any  way, 
as  you  chaps  don't  see  him  often,  I'll  wake  him." 

Hoisting  one  of  his  long  legs  over  the  low  coconut 
fence,  the  trader  got  into  the  pen,  and  slapping  the 
huge  beast  gently  on  the  rump,  called,  "  Brian,  Brian, 
get  up,  old  man  ;  it's  on'y  me  an'  Andy,  an'  Tom 
French  an'  Davy  Walsh." 

Brian  wouldn't  move,  but  his  thick,  hideous  lip 
gave  a  slight  quiver. 

"  He  wants  a  lot  o'  coaxin',  don't  he  ? "  said  Malleson, 
with  a  faint  blink  of  amusement,  and  then  he  began  to 
scratch  the  monster's  back  with  his  forefinger.  This 
partially  roused  the  object  of  his  solicitude,  tvho  gave 
vent  to  a  grunt  of  enjoyment,  and  lifting  one  hind  leg 
slightly,  pushed  it  out  astern  ;  then  with  another  and 
fainter  grunt  he  lay  quiet  again. 

"  Won't  he  stand  up  ?  "  queried  Andy. 


54  Mrs.  Ma  He  son's  Rival. 

"  No,  not  now.  But  we'll  come  back  when  it  gets 
a  bit  cooler.  He  enjoys  the  wind  when  it's  a  bit 
westerly,  like  it  is  now,  and  generally  stands  up  in  the 
corner  there  to  get  a  sniff — there,  d'ye  see  that  little 
port-hole  I've  cut  ?  Well,  he  likes  looking  through 
that  sometimes,  watching  the  village  pigs  cruisin' 
about  on  the  beach.  I've  been  givin'  him  cooked  fish 
lately.  Don't  believe  in  raw  fish  for  him — heats  his 
blood  too  much  an'  gives  him  a  kind  o'  nightmare." 

"Just  so,"  said  Davy,  sympathetically;  "makes 
him  cry  out  in  his  sleep  I  suppose.  Well,  he's  looking 
all  right,  anyway." 

•  .  •  •  • 

**  Come  along  the  beach  for  a  bit  of  a  stroll,"  said 
Andy  O'Rourke  to  Malleson  that  night.  The  other 
two  men  had  turned  in,  and  Andy  had  been  waiting 
for  a  chance  to  have  a  quiet  talk  to  his  host.  As  they 
went  out  Andy  pointed  to  the  recumbent  figures  of 
Mrs.  Andy  and  her  sister,  who  were  apparently  sound 
asleep  at  the  end  of  the  sitting-room,  and  said — 

"  They  look  all  right  and  comfy,  don't  they  ?  " 

They  did  look  all  right,  and  even  the  owl-like, 
watery-eyed  Malleson  smiled  approvingly.  One  of 
Tera's  soft,  rounded  arms  supported  her  sister's  head, 
and  her  face  rested  against  her  bosom.  As  the  men's 
footsteps  disturbed  the  coral  gravel  that  was  spread 
over  the  path  outside  the  house,  the  younger  woman 
pretended  to  awake,  rose,  and  followed  them. 

"  Anti,"  she  called  in  the  native  language,  "  tell  the 
white  man  that  if  he  will  give  me  a  piece  of  soap, 
Lebonnai  and  I  shall  wash  his  clothes  in  the  morning." 
(Result  of  prompting  from  Lebonnai  aforesaid  during 
the  night.) 


Mrs.  Ma  lie  son  s  Rival.  55 

Of  course,  Malleson  understood  the  native  tongue, 
and  as  he  walked  away  with  Andy  he  said  that  Tera 
"was  a  good-hearted  girl  to  trouble  about  his  dirty 
clothes." 

"  She  is  that.  Look  here,  old  man,  she's  a  regular 
star  of  a  girl.  Now,  I  ain't  going  to  beat  about  the 
bush.  I  brought  her  here  thinking  you  might  take  a 
likin'  to  her,  and  marry  her.  She'll  be  a  fine  wife  for 
you,  and  make  you  comfortable.  What  do  you  say  ? 
She's  willin'  enough,  and  there  ain't  a  better-mannered 
girl  anywhere  in  the  Gilbert  Group  ;  an'  what's  more, 
there  isn't  any  scandal  about  her." 

Malleson  made  no  reply  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then 
he  began  filling  his  pipe.  After  he  had  lighted  it  he 
spoke. 

"  Look  here,  Andy,  I'll  just  tell  you  the  whole 
thing.  I'd  be  willin'  enough,  but  the  fact  is  I'm  a 
married  man.  My  old  woman  is  livin'  in  Auckland. 
She's  got  a  rotten  temper,  an'  to  make  things  worse, 
she  took  up  with  some  o'  these  here  wimmen  suffrage 
wimmen,  and  used  to  jaw  the  head  off  herself  tellin' 
me  what  a  degradin'  beast  I  was  to  live  with.  Well, 
things  went  on  from  bad  to  worse,  until  one  day  I  seed 
in  the  paper  as  Mrs.  James  Malleson  had  said  at  a 
meetin'  that  she  too  had  an  unthinkin'  husband  as 
hadn't  got  no  intelligence.  That  just  finished  me. 
I  cleared  out  from  her,  and  came  down  here  with 
Captain  Peate  to  start  tradin'.  That  was  two  year 
ago.  I  send  her  money  every  six  months  by  the 
schooner,  but,  although  I  won't  ever  go  back  to  her 
again,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  marry  no  native  women.  It's 
bigamy." 

"No,  it  ain't.     Not  down  in  the  islands  anyway. 


56  Mrs.  Malleson  s  Rival. 

Why,  it  ain*t  respectable  for  a  man  to  be  livin'  by 
himself,  as  you  are.  You  can  marry  Tera  right 
enough.  Who's  agoin'  to  know  that  you've  a  wife 
in  New  Zealand." 

"  I  would,  and  Peate  would.  And  besides  that  I 
ain't  agoin'  to  do  anything  like  that.  My  wife's  a 
holy  terror,  but,  at  the  same  time,  I  know  she's  an 
honest  woman,  and  I  won't  wrong  her  that  way." 

Andy  gave  a  long  whistle  of  astonishment.  "  Well, 
just  as  you  like,  old  man  ;  but  you  beat  anything  I 
ever  saw  as  a  trader.  You  ought  to  get  a  billet  as  a 
missionary.  And  do  you  mean  to  keep  on  livin'  like 
this,  all  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Why  not  ?  I'm  all  right.  I'm  doin'  pretty 
well,  and  Brian  takes  up  a  lot  of  my  time  when 
business  is  dull.  How  do  you  think  he's  lookin'  ?  " 

•  •  •  •  * 

A  week  later  pretty,  black-browed  Tera  went  away 
with  her  sister — still  single.  As  the  boats  sailed 
from  the  white  beach  Malleson  stood  in  his  doorway 
and  waved  his  hand  in  farewell. 

"  She's  a  pretty  little  creatur',"  he  said  as  he  watched 
the  boats  heeling  over  to  the  breeze,  "  an'  as  merry  as 
a  lark.  I  wonder  if  Brian  would  ha'  took  to  her  ?  " 

Sometimes  the  village  children  would  come  near  to 
Brian's  sty,  and  ask  Malleson  to  let  them  give  the 
creature  a  young  coconut,  knowing  full  well  that  the 
pleased  trader  would  reward  them  individually  by  a 
present  of  a  ship  biscuit  in  return.  At  dusk  Malleson, 
carrying  a  huge  wooden  bowl  full  of  tender  coconut 
pulp  and  milk,  would  give  the  pig  his  last  meal  for  the 
day,  and  then  stand  and  lean  over  the  fence  and  gaze 


Mrs.  Malleson  s  Rival.  57 

admiringly  down,  as  Brian  thrust  his  round,  pink  snout 
into  the  repast. 

Sometimes  also  Malleson,  although  naturally  a 
modest  man,  could  not  but  feel  a  proud  swell  of  bosom, 
when,  in  the  bright  moonlight  nights,  he  would  look 
and  see  perhaps  thirty  or  forty  natives  from  the  far  end 
of  the  island,  standing  around  the  pig  pen,  rifles  in 
hand,  discussing  the  magnificent  proportions  and 
money  value  of  its  slumbering  tenant. 

•  •  •  .  • 

A  year  went  by,  and  then  one  day  the  Indiana 
sailed  into  the  lagoon.  The  captain  and  Denison 
the  supercargo  soon  came  ashore  and  met  Malleson 
standing  on  the  beach. 

"  How  are  you,  Malleson  ?  Got  much  for  me  this 
trip  ?  " 

"  About  ninety  tons  of  copra,  Captain  Peate.  Did 
you  bring  me  those  two  bags  of  maize  for  the  pig  ?  " 

"  D your  old  pig,  man  !     But  of  course  I've 

brought  it.     And  I'm  going  to  take  you  back  with 
me  this  trip." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Malleson,  wonderingly. 

"  Because  I've  seen  Mrs.  Malleson,  and  had  a  long 
yarn  with  her.  Here's  a  letter  to  you  from  her.  The 
fact  is,  Malleson,  she's  fretting  about  you,  and  wants 
you  to  come  back.  She  told  me  it  was  all  her  fault, 
but  that  if  you  come  back  shr.'ll  be  a  different  woman, 
and  leave  politics  and  woman  suffrage  alone." 

Malleson  opened  and  read  his  wife's  letter,  and  then 
looked  with  a  troubled  expression  into  the  captain's 
face. 

"  Well,"  he  sighed,  "  I  s'pose  I  must  go.  I  can't 
stay  away  from  my  lawful  wife  now  she's  goin*  to 


58  Mrs.  Malleson  s  Riva/. 

turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  quit  jawin'  and  naggin'. 
Can  you  put  Brian  somewhere  below  ?  I  wouldn't 
let  him  make  the  voyage  on  deck  !  We  might  get 
bad  weather  on  the  trip — it's  just  comin'  on  for  the 
hurricane  season  now." 

The  skipper  gazed  at  Malleson  in  wrathful  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Curse  your  infernal  beast  of  a  pig  !  I'm  not 
going  to  have  the  brute  aboard  my  ship.  I'll  buy  him 
from  you,  if  you  like,  and  give  him  to  my  Kanaka 
crew  to  eat." 

Malleson  laughed  uneasily.  "You're  fond  of  your 
joke,  Captain.  However,  we  can  arrange  about  him 
by  and  by,  after  the  copra  is  bagged  and  shipped." 

"Arrange  be  hanged  !  D'ye  think  I'm  going  to 
carry  a  confounded  pig  as  a  passenger  ?  Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  bring  him  in  the  cabin  ?  It  might  be 
*  arranged,'  though,"  he  continued  with  bitter  sarcasm. 
"  Denison  and  the  mate  and  myself  could  sleep  in  the 
hold — that  is,  if  the  pig  wouldn't  find  the  cabin  too 
close  for  him  when  we  lose  the  south-east  trades." 

Malleson  turned  away  indignantly.  He  did  not  see 
anything  to  make  fun  of  in  his  anxiety  for  Brian. 
Yet  he  went  off,  feeling  that  Peate  would  relent 
before  the  day  was  out.  But  his  face  fell  when,  later 
on  in  the  day,  Captain  Peate  told  him  plainly  that  he 
could  not  possibly  take  the  pig,  not  even  on  deck. 

"  Sell  him  to  the  natives,"  suggested  Denison,  who 
was  standing  near. 

Malleson  gave  an  indignant  reply.  He  never  used 
bad  language,  but  it  was  very  evident  that  he  was 
greatly  angered  at  the  captain's  refusal  to  even  have  a 
deck  house  built  for  the  pig's  accommodation.  How- 


Mrs.  Mallesoris  Rtva/.  59 

ever,  in  the  course  of  the  day   he  had  an  interview 
with  the  local  chief;  then  he  went  back  to  Peate. 

-I've  arranged  with  the  chief  about  Brian.  He's 
promised  me  that  when  I  come  back  next  trip  I'll  find 
Brian  all  right,  and  well  cared  for." 

"  When  you  come  back  !  What  in  the  name  of 
Heaven  are  you  coming  back  to  this  wretched  place 
for  ?  The  •  missus '  won't  hear  of  it." 

"  She'll  have  to  hear  of  it  ;  and  what's  more,  if  she 
doesn't  like  to  come  back  with  me,  she  can  stay 
behind.  I  mean  to  come  back,  and  live  here.  I'm 
doin'  pretty  well,  and  don't  see  why  I  should  give  up 
my  business  to  please  her.  I  might  have  got  married 
native  fashion,  an'  been  more  comfortable,  but  wouldn't 
do  it — it  was  against  my  conscience.  At  the  same 
time,  if  you'll  change  your  mind,  an'  will  take  the  pig 
away  with  me  in  the  Indiana,  I  might  settle  down 
again  in  New  Zealand,  an'  try  pig-farmin'." 

"  Oh,  all  right ;  please  yourself,"  said  the  skipper, 
shortly.  "  I'd  take  the  pig,  if  I  could,  but  I  can't. 
We've  none  too  much  room  aboard  now,  and  I  can't 
build  a  deck  house  for  such  a  hulking  beast  as  your 
cursed  old  pig." 

Shortly  after  dawn  next  morning  Malleson  was 
ready.  He  had  spent  an  hour  or  so  in  meditation 
over  the  pig  pen,  fed  Brian  for  the  last  time,  and 
taken  a  tender  farewell  of  him.  And,  as  he  now 
stepped  out  of  his  house  for  the  last  time,  he  gave  the 
chief  a  parting  injunction. 

"  See  that  he  eateth  nothing  but  that  which  is 
given  him  by  thine  own  hand,  my  friend  ;  and  that 
his  bed  be  made  with  very  little,  smooth  pebbles, 
covered  over  with  much  soft,  fine  grass  ;  a  big  stone 


60  Mrs.  Malleson  s  Rival. 

among  them  doth  both  hurt  and  anger  him  when  he 
lieth  down  to  sleep." 

Then  as  Malleson  and  the  captain  walked  down  to 
the  beach,  the  people  stood  around,  and  called  out  in 
their  guttural  tongue  :  Tiak  apo,  Timi  (Good-bye, 
Jimmy)  ;  and  the  trader,  with  a  last  look  towards  the 
pigsty,  stepped  into  the  boat. 

Suddenly  a  hideous  sound — a  combination  of  a  snort 
of  rage  and  a  squeal  of  terror — smote  upon  his  ear, 
and  in  an  instant  he  had  jumped  but,  and  made 
toward  the  pig  pen.  Just  as  /he  came  in  view  of  the 
lowly  structure  he  saw  a  number  of  native  children 
disappearing  round  the  back  of  his  storehouses,  and 
Teban,  the  chief,  in  swift  pursuit,  shouting  out  threats 
of  vengeance. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  chief  returned  and  explained 
matters  to  the  agitated  Malleson,  who  was  now  in  the 
pen,  rubbing  the  pig's  cheeks,  and  asking  him  what 
was  the  matter.  It  seemed  that  the  moment  Malleson 
had  got  into  the  boat  a  rude  little  boy  had  thrust  a 
sharpened  fish-spear  into  Brian's  snout  to  make  Brian 
squeal. 

Teban  swore  by  the  shades  of  his  father  and  two 
uncles  to  find  the  culprit  and  beat  him. 

Malleson  didn't  answer  him  for  awhile.  His 
feelings  overpowered  him.  Presently  he  got  out  of 
the  pen  and  walked  down  the  beach  to  the  boat. 

"  Come  on,  man,  come  on,"  called  the  captain,  im- 
patiently, "  we'll  never  get  away  at  this  rate." 

"  Look  here,  captain,  I've  changed  my  mind  about 
goin'.  Sling  my  traps  out  again,  will  you  ?  You  can 
tell  the  old  woman  that  I  was  glad  to  hear  from  her,  an' 
if  she  likes  to  come  down  here  to  me  with  you  next  trip, 


Mrs.  Malleson' s  Rival.  61 

I'll  try  and  make  her  comfortable,  an'  be  a  good  husban* 
to  her.  ...  But  it's  no  use,  I  can  see,  trusting  Brian 
with  these  natives.  He's  trembling  now  like  a  asping 

leaf.     Some  d d  boy   has  just   been   proddin'  the 

poor  fellow  in  the  nose  out  o'  pure  devilment." 

And  then  shaking  hands  with  the  disgusted  skipper, 
the  grief-stricken  man  hurried  back  to  solace  and 
soothe  the  angry  feelings  of  his  beloved  pig. 

Malleson  is  now  living  in  a  swell  weather-board 
house  at  Tarawa,  with  his  lawful  wife  ;  and  Brian 
has  "  took  "  to  Mrs.  Malleson. 


P^ESCOTT     OF    NAUI(A 


Prescott  of  Naura 

I 

ABOUT  three  or  four  hundred  miles  to  the  westward 
of  the  Kingsmill  Group,  and  situated  twenty-five 
miles  south  of  the  equator,  is  an  isolated  island,  with  a 
teeming  population  of  noisy,  intractable  savages.  It  is 
called  by  the  people  Naura,  and  to  the  white  traders 
and  seamen  who  frequent  that  little-visited  part  of  the 
South  Pacific,  is  known  as  Pleasant  Island.  At  the 
present  time  it  is  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
Imperial  German  Commissioner  of  the  Marshall 
Islands,  having  been  included  in  the  German-protected 
area  in  the  Pacific  in  1884.  Since  that  time  the 
social  conditions  and  habits  of  the  people  have  changed 
but  little,  save  for  one  important  particular — their 
German  masters  try  to  keep  a  tight  rein  upon  their 
blood-letting  proclivities,  and  the  seven  clans  with 
which  the  island  is  peopled  are  no  longer  allowed  to 
slaughter  each  other  with  a  free  hand  ;  and  every- 
thing they  buy  is  made  in  Germany. 

But  even  under  the  government  of  a  civilised 
nation,  life  to-day  among  the  wild  denizens  of  Naura 
is  full  of  exciting  incident,  for  there  is  but  one 
German  official  on  the  island,  and  sometimes  the  old 

6  * 


66  Fresco tt  of  Naur  a. 

fighting  leaven  becomes  too  strong  and  the  seven  clans 
shoot  merrily  away  at  each  other  over  their  stone 
boundary  walls.  Then  a  report  goes  to  the  Com- 
missioner at  Jaluit,  and  by  and  by  a  German  man-of- 
war  comes  down  and  her  captain  chides  the  people, 
who  promise,  like  the  children  they  are,  not  to  be 
wicked  any  more,  but  to  lay  aside  their  rifles — and 
make  copra  for  the  German  trading  firm — else  they 
won't  get  any  more  English  tinned  beef  and  American 
tobacco  made  in  Germany. 

But  thirty  or  forty  years  ago  Pleasant  Island  was  a 
wild  place  indeed.  The  ships  of  the  American 
whaling  fleet  that  in  those  days  sailed  from  one  end  of 
the  Pacific  to  the  other,  called  there  often  enough,  but 
every  man  on  board,  save  those  working  the  ship,  held 
a  musket  or  a  cutlass  in  his  hand  as  long  as  the  vessel 
lay  off  and  on  at  the  island.  For  bad  enough  as  the 
natives  were,  the  white  men  who  lived  with  them 
were  worse.  Among  them  were  men  who  would 
have  thought  no  more  of  cutting  off  a  ship  and 
murdering  all  hands  than  they  would  of  shooting  a 
native  of  the  island.  And  it  was  on  Pleasant  Island 
that  Robert  Prescott  had  cast  his  lot  when  he  ran 
away  from  the  brig  Clarkston^  of  Sydney.  This  vessel 
when  cruising  through  the  New  Hebrides  Group  had 
found  him  at  Vate,  where  he  was  living  with  the 
natives. 

In  those  times  captains  of  whalers  and  sandal-wood- 
ing ships  picked  up  many  such  wandering  white  men 
as  this  man  among  the  islands  and  asked  no  questions 
from  whence  they  came.  And  although  the  captain 
of  the  Clarkston  had  a  good  idea  that  Prescott  was 
one  of  a  gang  of  escaped  Tasmanian  convicts,  he  cheer- 


Prescott  of  Naura.  67 

fully  accepted  his  statement  that  he  had  run  away 
from  the  Rifleman^  a  London  whaler,  and  acceded  to 
his  wish  to  give  him  a  passage  to  Pleasant  Island. 

Three  months  after,  Prescott,  then  an  immensely 
powerful  young  man,  and  notorious  for  his  violent 
temper,  landed  on  the  island,  and  was  greeted  with 
much  enthusiasm  by  some  eight  or  ten  white  beach- 
combers, most  of  whom  had  known  him  when,  as  their 
associate,  he  was  engaged  in  the  laborious  occupation 
of  hauling  timber  at  Port  Arthur  under  the  supervision 
of  the  unappreciative  prison  officials  who  "  bossed  "  the 
chain  gang. 

Among  the  hardened  criminals  who  escorted  their 
newly-found  comrade  to  the  village  in  which  four  or 
five  of  them  lived  in  rude,  drunken  luxury,  was  an  old 
New  South  Wales  convict  named  Jasper  Dale,  whose 
brute  strength  and  pre-eminence  in  every  imaginable 
kind  of  villainy  had  led  to  his  tacit  installation  as 
leader,  not  only  of  the  majority  of  the  white  renegades 
of  Naura,  but  of  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  the 
natives  clans. 

With  such  a  man  as  this  for  his  friend,  Prescott — 
himself  a  man  of  the  most  ferocious  courage  and  cruel 
nature — soon  became  a  person  of  influence  among  the 
natives,  and  ere  long  he  and  Dale  came  to  open 
enmity  with  the  other  beach-combers,  who  one  by  one 
withdrew  themselves  to  the  protection  of  the  chiefs 
other  clans. 

•  •  •  •  • 

A  year  or  two  previous  to  the  arrival  of  Prescott 
on  the  island,  Dale  had  taught  the  natives  how 
to  make  an  ardent  spirit  from  the  sap  of  the 
inflorescence  of  the  coconut  palm  j  and  it  was  no 


68  Fresco tt  of  Naur  a. 

unusual  sight  to  see  the  whole  male  population  of  one 
village,  maddened  by  drinking  this  "  toddy,"  as  it  was 
called,  sally  forth  from  their  houses  of  thatch,  and, 
led  by  their  particular  white  man,  engage  in  bloody 
combat  with  the  people  of  the  next  village.  In  these 
encounters  Dale  had  always  taken  the  leadership  of 
the  fighting-men  of  his  clan,  and  his  prowess  in  war 
led  him  to  be  treated  with  the  greatest  consideration 
by  his  native  friends.  Before  Prescott's  arrival  he  had 
already  given  further  distinction  to  his  name  by  shooting 
dead  a  fellow  beach-comber  named  Lawson,  and  carry- 
ing off  his  wife  to  his  already  ample  harem.  The 
savage  spirit  in  which  Prescott  emulated  him  in  deeds 
of  bloodshed  proved  his  eminent  fitness  as  a  lieutenant, 
and  it  was  this  partiality  that  Dale  evinced  for  him 
that  led  to  the  rupture  with  the  other  white 
men. 

For  some  time  neither  Prescott  nor  Dale  came  into 
actual  collision  with  their  former  associates  till  one 
day  an  ex-convict  named  Cassidy,  with  three  other 
whites  and  two  hundred  natives  at  his  back,  maddened, 
like  himself,  with  drinking  sour  toddy,  burst  upon  the 
village  in  which  Dale  and  Prescott  lived  and  began 
firing  into  and  burning  the  houses  right  and  left. 
Seizing  his  musket  at  the  first  alarm  Prescott  had 
taken  his  stand  in  front  of  his  house,  and  the  first  shot 
he  fired  struck  Cassidy,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot. 
The  loss  of  their  leader  made  the  attacking  party 
retreat,  and  the  two  friends,  flushed  with  their  victory, 
that  night  held  high  revel  with  their  native  friends  in 
the  maniapat  or  council-house,  of  their  village,  and 
planned  the  utter  destruction  of  their  former  colleagues. 

Their  native  allies  entered  eagerly  into  the  scheme, 


Prtscott  of  Naura.  69 

and  it  was  finally  agreed  upon  that  if  they  and  their 
two  white  men  succeeded  in  exterminating  the  others, 
that  the  island  should  be  divided  into  two  districts — 
one  for  Dale,  the  other  for  Prescott ;  and  after  long 
discussion  it  was  decided  to  make  an  attack  in  two 
days'  time  upon  a  village  in  which  six  of  the  white 
men  lived. 

But  their  plans  were  thrown  suddenly  out  of  gear 
by  an  unlooked-for  event — next  morning  at  daylight 
they  saw  lying-to,  close  in  shore,  a  large  ship,  which, 
by  the  number  of  boats  and  men  she  carried,  it  was 
easy  to  see  was  a  whaler. 

Dale  and  Prescott,  calling  loudly  to  their  native 
friends  to  come  with  them  in  force  and  board  the  ship 
before  they  were  anticipated  by  the  other  white  men 
on  the  island,  were  just  preparing  to  start,  when,  to 
their  disgust,  they  saw  that  a  whaleboat,  in  which 
were  their  former  companions,  had  already  reached 
the  ship. 

"  Curse  them  !  "  said  Dale,  with  a  fearful  oath,  to 
his  crime-stained  partner,  "  Klinermann,  Ashton,  and 
Cow-faced  Bob  and  the  others  have  got  to  windward 
of  us  this  time.  They'll  buy  all  the  spare  arms  and 
ammunition  they  can  get,  and  then  sail  in  and  wipe 
us  two  out." 

"  Never  !  "  said  Prescott,  passionately,  as  his  hand 
gripped  a  pistol  savagely.  "  I  tell  you,  Dale,  that  if 
you  stand  by  me  we  will  yet  be  masters  here." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  it  ?  "  said  Dale.  "  Even  if  we  do 
wipe  'em  out,  we  can't  expect  to  live  here  for  ever.  I 
tell  you,  man,  that  there's  bound  to  be  a  man-o'-war 
here  before  long — and  you  know  what  that  means  "  ; 
and  with  a  hideous  grimace  he  pointed  to  his  throat. 


jo  Prescott  of  Naura. 

"  The  System1  ain't  agoin*  to  let  us  chaps  live  in  clover 
down  here." 

Sitting  down  on  an  upturned  canoe  the  man  Pres- 
cott gazed  moodily  out  upon  the  placid  ocean  towards 
the  whaleship  as  she  slowly  stood  out  seawards  with 
the  shore  boat  in  tow.  Suddenly  he  sprang  up,  and 
with  clenched  hands  and  working  features  strode  to 
and  fro  under  the  waving  plumes  of  the  palm  trees. 

"  Dale,"  he  said,  suddenly,  and  his  voice  was  husky 
and  hoarse  with  emotion,  "  you  know  me.  I  tell  you 
that  if  you  will  stand  by  me  we  will  see  Europe  or 
America  in  another  twelve  months.  O  God,  man  ! 
O  God !  I  must  get  somewhere  away  from  these 
cursed  men-o'-war,  or  I'll  go  mad." 

"  Spit  it  out,  then,"  said  Dale,  with  a  savage  light  in 
his  eye.  "  I  ain't  the  cove  to  go  back  on  a  man. 
Wot  d'ye  want  to  do  ?  " 

"  Come  here,"  said  Prescott,  clutching  his  arm  and 
drawing  him  into  the  deserted  native  council-house. 

For  nearly  half  an  hour  the  two  men  talked,  and 
then  separated  as  they  saw  the  whaleship  shorten  her 
canvas  and  heave  to,  and  the  boat,  crowded  with  white 
men,  pull  for  the  shore. 

.  .  •  •  • 

In  the  boat  there  were  seven  white  men  belonging 
to  the  island  and  four  others  from  the  ship.  These 
four  useless,  dissolute  creatures  had  been  told  by  the 
captain  of  the  whaleship  that  as  he  no  longer  wanted 
them  on  board  they  might  go  on  shore  and  stay  there. 
Fired  with  the  desire  of  leading  a  lazy,  sensuous  life 
among  the  wild  people  of  Pleasant  Island,  they  had 
eagerly  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  seven  beach- 

1  The  Convict  Syitem  of  New  South  Wilei. 


Prescott  of  Naura.  71 

combers  to  "come  ashore  and  live  like  fighting- 
cocks." 

As  the  boat  drew  in  to  the  beach  the  man  who 
steered,  a  tall,  slender  young  fellow  named  Beverley, 
suddenly  uttered  an  expression  of  alarm,  and  pointed 
to  the  figures  of  their  two  former  comrades  who  were 
seated  on  the  shore,  apparently  awaiting  their  arrival. 
Behind  them  were  some  three  or  four  hundred  natives 
belonging  to  the  village  in  which  the  seven  beach- 
combers lived. 

"  By  God,  boys,"  said  young  Beverley,  "  there's 
Prescott  and  Dale  right  among  our  people,  sitting 
down  on  the  beach  as  if  they  belonged  here — and  as  if 
Prescott  hadn't  shot  poor  Cassidy  less  than  twelve 
hours  ago." 

"What  does  it  matter,  Bev.? "  hiccupped  a  crime- 
hardened  ruffian  named  Greenhaugh  ;  "  they're  in  our 
village,  and  if  they  meant  mischief  our  natives  would 
have  made  short  work  of  'em.  Tell  you  what  it  is, 
boys.  Dale  ain't  a  bad  cove,  neither  is  Prescott — 
they've  come  round  to  make  it  up  with  us.  An'  I 
votes  we  makes  it  up  an'  has  a  howlin*  drunk  all 
round,  and  treats  each  other  like  gentlemen." 

The  hospitable  sentiments  of  Mr.  Greenhaugh  were 
well  received  by  his  companions,  and  as  soon  as  the 
boat  touched  the  beach  the  eleven  white  men  left  her 
to  be  hauled  up  by  the  natives  and  advanced  in 
drunken,  rollicking  good-humour  to  the  two  men  who 
awaited  them. 

"Hallo,  Beverley,"  said  Prescott,  advancing,  "you 
chaps  got  to  windward  of  me  and  Dale  this  time  in 
getting  aboard  the  ship  first.  Well,  never  mind,  we 
aren't  going  to  quarrel  over  it,  are  we,  Dale  ?  But 


72  Prtscott  of  Naura. 

what  we  do  want  to  say  is  this  :  we  ain't  going  to 
bear  no  malice  for  what  happened  yesterday.  Cassidy 
got  wiped  out.  We  ain't  going  to  deny  it.  I  wiped 
him  out,  an'  if  you  other  chaps,"  pointing  to  the  other 
three  men  who  had  followed  Cassidy  in  the  previous 
day's  encounter,  "  hadn't  cleared  mighty  smart,  you'd 
have  all  been  wiped  out  too  by  our  crowd.  And  so 
what  I  say  is  this,  let  us  make  friends  again  and  live 
quiet  and  peaceablelike.  You,  Beverley,  are  married 
to  a  sister  of  my  wife ;  so  here's  my  hand,  and  let 
bygones  be  bygones." 

"  Right  you  are,  Prescott.  I  don't  want  no 
fighting,  and  I  wouldn't  join  in  the  row  yesterday.  I 
have  no  grudge  against  you,"  and  so  saying  young 
Beverley  held  out  his  hand.  In  a  few  moments  the 
others  followed  his  example. 

"Well,  look  here,  boys,"  said  Dale,  meditatively, 
"  our  house  at  the  other  village  is  a  bigger  one  than 
yours.  We've  got  plenty  of  grog,  and  why  can't  you 
chaps  all  come  up  to  our  village,  and  we'll  have  a 
blazin'  spree,  and  drink  repose  to  poor  Cassidy 's  foolish 
soul  ?  " 

"  Yes,  come  on,  lads,"  said  Prescott ;  "  we'll  make  it 
up  to-night,  and  besides  that,  we  can  talk  business"; 
and  he  looked  meaningly  at  Beverley,  who,  though 
so  young,  he  knew  possessed  great  influence  over  the 
other  men. 

Half  an  hour's  walk  brought  them  to  Prescott  and 
Dale's  village,  and  then,  surrounded  by  a  tumultuous 
and  excited  crowd  of  Prescott's  native  friends,  the 
thirteen  white  men  entered  his  house,  and  were  made 
welcome  by  his  and  Dale's  wives.  A  case  of  gin  was 
passed  out  to  the  natives,  and,  to  show  that  no  treachery 


Prescott  of  Naur  a.  73 

was  intended  towards  their  guests,  Prescott  commanded 
the  people  to  bring  all  their  arms — muskets,  clubs  and 
spears — into  his  house,  and  lay  them  down  on  the 
matted  floor. 

Less  cruel  and  treacherous  than  their  white 
associates,  the  natives  instantly  complied,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  floor  of  the  beach-combers'  house  was 
covered  with  weapons.  As  soon  as  the  natives  had 
withdrawn  to  their  huts,  which  were  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  Dale  and  Prescott's  house,  the 
latter  opened  a  couple  of  bottles  of  liquor,  and  pouring 
the  fiery  contents  into  coconut  shells  handed  it  round 
to  the  company. 

Throwing  off  all  disguise,  Prescott  strode  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  drinking  off  his  liquor  spoke. 

"  Boys,"  he  said,  and  his  bright  blue  eyes  glittered 
and  sparkled  with  cruel  lustre,  "  Dale  and  I  didn't  ask 
you  here  just  to  get  drunk.  Did  we,  Dale  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dale,  with  a  fierce  laugh  as  he  drained 
off  his  liquor  and  dashed  the  empty  coconut  shell  to 
the  ground.  "  We  asked  you  coves  here  to  see  if  you 
had  any  grit  in  yer,  an'  was  game  for  a  bold  stroke." 

"What  d'ye  want  us  for,  then,  d n  yer?"  said 

Green haugh,  the  most  reckless  of  the  lot.  "D'ye  want 
us  to  sing  a  hymn  for  poor  Ted  Cassidy  ?  " 

"  This  is  what  we  want,"  said  Prescott,  and  ad- 
vancing to  the  table  he  spread  out  both  hands  upon  it. 
"  Here  we  are,  thirteen  men,  all  got  arms,  and  plenty 
of  niggers  to  back  us  up — and  there's  a  ship  to  be  had 
for  very  little  trouble.  Now  do  you  understand  ?  " 

For  a  moment  no  one  answered  him,  and  then 
Beverley  with  his  brown  arms  folded  across  his 
brawny  chest,  advanced  to  Prescotk 


74  Prescott  of  Naura. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Prescott — cutting  off?  " 

The  ex-convict  nodded,  and  then  gazed  with  keen 
anxiety  into  the  young  man's  face.  The  rest  of  the 
men  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  but  no  words 
escaped  their  lips. 

Dashing  his  hand  upon  the  table  the  young  beach- 
comber looked  into  the  dark  and  lowering  face  of 
Prescott. 

"  Look  here,  Bob  Prescott,  if  you  brought  us  here 
to  try  and  work  this  dodge  you've  made  a  mistake.  I 

may  be  a  d d  scoundrel,  but  I'm  not  going  to 

murder  a  ship's  crew  for  the  sake  of  what  is  aboard  the 
ship,"  and  turning  fiercely  to  the  other  men  who  sat 
silent  at  the  table.  "  And  if  any  man  among  you  chaps 
listens  to  such  a  thing,  by  God,  I'll  go  to  the  ship  and 
tell  the  skipper  !" 

Five  or  six  of  the  men  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  in 
eager  tones  assured  the  speaker  that  they  would  not 
entertain  the  idea.  And  then  Prescott,  with  simulated 
drunken  hilarity,  clapped  Beverley  on  the  back,  and 
swore  that  his  suggestion  was  only  a  joke. 

u  Get  another  bottle  of  grog,  Teratiko,"  he  said  to 
his  native  wife,  at  the  same  time  shooting  a  glance  or 
terrible  meaning  towards  Dale. 

"  I'll  get  it,  Bob,"  said  Dale,  going  to  a  partitioned- 
off  part  of  the  house,  where  the  liquor  was  kept.  As 
he  stepped  past  Prescott  he  muttered — 

"  Come  in  with  me  j "  and  then  in  a  loud  voice  he 
isked  him  to  come  and  show  him  where  the  grog 
was. 

The  moment  they  entered  the  partitioned  room  the 
man  Dale  whispered — 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 


Prescott  of  Naur  a.  75 

"  Look,"  said  Prescott,  with  an  oath,  as  he  pointed 
out  through  the  window  seaward,  "  do  you  see  that 
ship  ?  Well,  only  for  these  chicken-hearted  dogs  that 
ship  would  be  ours  to-night.  But  they  won't  do  it. 
And  I  say  that  if  we  can't  get  away  in  that  ship  those 
eleven  chaps  in  there  will  wipe  us  out  like  we  wiped 
out  Cassidy." 

"  Well,"  said  Dale,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "  /  say, 
what  are  you  (fgoir?  to  do  ?  " 

With  a  swift  glance  at  his  companion,  Prescott 
took  a  bottle  of  liquor  from  a  case  and  handed  it  to 
Dale. 

"  Quick — take  this  out  and  open  it  for  them.  But 
mind,  don't  drink  anything  yourself  from  the  next 
bottle  when  I  bring  it  in." 

In  a  moment  or  two  the  white  men  heard  Prescott 
calling  to  his  wives  to  bring  in  some  food,  and 
Greenhaugh,  with  a  drunken  laugh,  staggered  to  his 
feet,  and  said  he  would  assist  the  ladies  to  bring  in  the 
dinner. 

"Sit  down,  you  fool,"  said  Beverley,  the  youngest  and 
least  ruffianly  of  the  seven  beach-combers,  "haven't  you 
got  enough  sense  to  keep  quiet  in  this  place  ? "  and  he 
pointed  to  the  muskets,  cutlasses,  and  knives  that  were 
lying  upon  the  floor.  "  Do  you  think  that  because  we 
have  got  all  these  muskets  here  that  we  are  safe  ? 
Bah,  you  drunken  fool  !  " 

Steadying  himself  at  the  doorway,  Greenhaugh 
boastingly  asserted  that  he  for  one  was  afraid  of 
neither  their  hosts  nor  the  natives,  and  then,  meeting 
an  answering  look  in  some  of  his  comrades'  faces,  he  let 
his  caution  vanish. 

"  What's  to  keep  us  from  shootin'  'em  both  now  ?  " 


76  Prescott  of  Naura. 

he  said,  lurching  up  to  Beverley  again,  and  speaking  in 
a  husky  whisper. 

At  that  moment  Prescott  entered  the  room,  and  his 
quick  ear  caught  Beverley's  answer — 

"  Shoot  him  yourself  if  you  want  to  ;  but  you're 
not  going  to  do  it  now.  I  like  fair  play.  He's 
acting  fair  and  square  now  to  us,  and  I  ain't  going 
in  for  any  underhand  shooting." 

"  Here,  boys,"  said  Prescott,  advancing  to  the  table, 
followed  by  a  number  of  women  carrying  leaf  platters 
of  baked  fish  and  pork  ;  "  here's  some  '  chuck.'  But 
let's  have  another  drink  first ; "  and  going  to  the 
latticed-in  store  room  he  took  out  a  bottle  of  liquor 
from  the  case  and  set  it  upon  the  table. 

Little  did  the  unfortunate  victims  of  his  dreadful 
treachery  know  that  the  food  which  this  monster  had 
placed  before  them  had  been  impregnated  with  a 
deadly  poison.  Possibly  Prescott  might  have  relented 
at  the  last  moment  but  for  the  conversation  he 
had  overheard  between  Beverley  and  Greenhaugh, 
which  steeled  him  in  his  murderous  resolution. 

Presently  a  native  woman,  instructed  by  Prescott, 
came  to  the  door  and  called  to  Dale. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  ex-convict,  going  outside  to 
where  the  woman  stood. 

" Papu  (Bob)  says  you  arc  not  to  eat  any  food,  and 
to  watch  him." 

Dale  nodded  and  returned  inside,  and  then  the  coco- 
nut shells  of  liquor  were  passed  round  again.  Without 
the  slightest  hesitation  Prescott  poured  some  out  for 
himself  and  drank  it  off,  and  then,  looking  steadily 
at  his  colleague,  passed  the  shell  to  his  neighbour 
Instantly  Dale  surmised  that  he  had  changed  his  mind 


Prescott  of  Naura.  77 

about  administering  the  poison  in  the  liquor,  and  he 
too  drank  some. 

Then,  waited  upon  by  their  two  murderers,  the 
wretched  men  began  to  eat. 

Suddenly,  as  if  inspired  with  a  happy  idea,  Dale 
remarked,  "  Why  didn't  Davy  Terris  come  with  you 
chaps  ? " 

Beverley  laughed.  "  He  had  a  hand  in  that  job  of 
Cassidy's." 

"  Why,  that's  nothing,"  said  Dale,  with  rough  good- 
humour  ;  "  d d  if  I  don't  walk  down  to  his  place 

and  bring  him  here." 

"  By  hell,  yes,"  assented  Prescott,  "  and  I'll  go  with 
you.  We'll  all  be  friends  now,  boys  ;  "and  picking  up 
his  hat  he  strode  out  with  Dale,  and  took  the  path 
that  led  towards  the  village  in  which  the  man  Terris 
lived.  As  they  went  off  he  called  back  to  his  guests 
not  to  spare  the  "chuck,"  as  there  were  plenty  more 
fish  and  fowls  being  cooked,  and  that  Terris,  Dale, 
and  himself  would  eat  together. 

The  awful  scene  that  followed  within  a  few  minutes 
after  these  two  friends  had  left  the  house  may  be 
imagined,  but  not  described.  On  seven  of  them  the 
poison  soon  took  deadly  effect,  and  within  half  an  hour 
their  writhing  figures  had  stiffened  cold  in  death.  Of 
the  four  others,  Beverley  and  a  seaman  from  the 
whaler  were  least  affected,  and,  although  unable  to 
walk,  managed  to  crawl  to  different  portions  of  the 
room,  where  they  lay  in  agony  so  terrible  that  the 
listening  and  wondering  natives,  hundreds  of  yards 
away,  were  moved  to  pity,  and  besought  the  two 
white  men  to  go  and  put  an  end  to  their  misery. 


78  Prescott  of  Naura. 

With  terrible  imprecations  the  beach-combers  held 
the  natives  back,  and  waited  for  another  half  an  hour, 
till  all  was  silent.  Then  together  they  entered  the 
house,  and  presently  the  natives,  who  were  still 
forbidden  to  enter,  heard  three  shots — the  death 
knell  of  the  poor  wretches  who  were  still  alive. 


Two  or  three  years  passed. 

Of  the  fate  of  Dale  nothing  was  ever  known,  but 
the  subsequent  career  of  the  wretch  Prescott  was  well 
known  to  many  an  island  trader.  Filled  with  horror 
at  the  deed  the  white  men  had  perpetrated,  the  natives 
of  the  island  withdrew  their  countenance  entirely  from 
them,  and,  some  months  afterwards,  Prescott  was 
forced  by  them  to  go  on  board  the  American 
whaler  Gideon  Hauling.  The  captain  refused  to 
take  him  further  than  Ocean  Island,  a  small  spot 
a  few  hours'  sail  from  Pleasant  Island.  Eight  months 
afterwards  he  again  returned  to  Pleasant  Island  in  the 
London  whaler  Eleanor  (all  these  latter  particulars  I 
take  from  the  log  of  an  old  Sydney  shipmaster, 
Captain  Beckford  Simpson,  of  the  barque  Giraffe,  in 
a  report  to  the  Nautical  Magazine  of  1840),  but 
with  cries  of  horror  and  disgust  the  natives  repulsed 
him  from  landing.  Where  he  went  to  after  this  was 
not  known,  but  in  1843  Captain  Stokes,  of  the 
whaler  Bermondsey^  reported  having  seen  him  in  chains 
at  San  Juan  d'Apra,  in  Guam  ;  and  this  was  subse- 
quently confirmed  by  Captain  Bunker,  of  the 
Elizabeth.  Whether  he  had  committed  some  fresh 
crime,  or  had  merely  been  given  up  to  the  Spanish 
authorities  by  some  ship  as  a  runaway  convict  from 


Prescott  of  Naura.  79 

New  South  Wales,  does  not  appear.  How  he  escaped 
from  Guam  is  not  known. 

For  twenty  years  this  tiger  in  human  form  lived  a 
wandering  life  among  the  islands  of  the  North- West 
Pacific,  and  then  disappeared  from  that  part  of  the 
South  Seas,  to  re-appear  among  the  French  islands  of 
the  Society  and  Paumotu  groups.  But  the  tale  of  his 
great  crime  followed  him.  Only  a  man  of  his  utterly 
callous  nature  could  have  survived  many  years  of  such 
an  existence.  There  was  hardly  an  island  in  the 
Pacific  which  he  had  not  sought  out  in  the  vain  hope 
of  finding  refuge  from  the  story  of  his  black  past. 

II 

FIVE  years  ago  a  trader  named  Watson  was  staying  at 
the  Waitemata  Hotel,  in  Auckland,  slowly  recovering 
from  the  terrible  malarial  fever  of  New  Guinea, 
contracted  eighteen  months  previously  in  Orangerie 
Bay.  He  did  not  know  one  single  person  in  the  city  of 
Auckland  that  he  could  call  a  friend,  and  time  hung 
heavily  upon  him.  Only  that  it  was  a  matter  of 
physical  impossibility  for  him  to  get  about,  he  would 
have  returned  to  the  islands  weeks  before.  Knowing 
no  one,  and  taking  no  interest  in  local  matters,  he 
eagerly  read  the  shipping  news  in  the  morning  papers, 
to  see  if  any  vessels  had  arrived  from  the  South  Sea 
Islands  ;  for  the  best  part  of  his  life  had  been  spent  in 
the  various  groups  of  the  South  and  North  Pacific,  and 
the  name  of  not  only  every  vessel  and  captain 
engaged  in  the  island  trade  from  Tonga  to  New 
Guinea  was  familiar  to  him  as  his  own,  but  the 
personality  of  every  trader  as  well. 


8o  Prescott  of  Naura. 

One  morning  he  saw  notified  the  arrival  of  a 
schooner  from  the  island  of  Aitutaki,  in  the  Cook's 
Group.  The  name  of  her  captain  at  once  recalled  to 
memory  his  cheery  face  and  rude  good-nature  when 
Watson  and  he  were  shipmates  in  the  Queensland 
labour  trade  eight  years  before. 

He  wrote  a  note  and  sent  it  on  board,  and  in  the 
evening  the  skipper  came  up  to  the  hotel.  They  had 
much  to  say  to  each  other,  and  for  nearly  an  hour 
talked  of  old  times  and  friends  in  the  Solomons  and 
New  Hebrides  Group,  of  which  part  of  the  Pacific  the 
skipper  declared  he  had  had  enough.  "  A  murderous 
low-down  crowd  of  niggers,"  he  said,  with  a  cheerful 
smile,  drawing  up  the  coat-sleeve  of  his  right  arm  and 
showing  Watson  a  most  extraordinary  thing  in  the  way 
of  inartistic  butchery  of  the  human  form.  "  Look  at 
that,  my  son.  Don't  it  look  like  as  if  the  flesh  had 
been  parcelled  round  the  bone  in  strips  ?  The  niggers 
did  that  for  me  at  Bougainville  two  years  ago.  I  was 
rushed  on  the  beach,  and  my  boat  backed  out  before  I 
could  get  down  to  her  ;  my  boat's  crew  had  gone  back 
on  me — planned  with  the  natives  that  I  should  be 
killed  !  Three  of  them  jumped  overboard  when  they 
saw  that  I  was  wading  off,  and  made  for  the  shore, 
leaving  only  a  sooty  black  devil  of  a  Buka  Buka  boy 
in  the  boat.  He  stood  his  ground,  although  he  was 
only  a  slip  of  a  lad.  He  was  too  frightened  to  try 
and  shoot  me,  but  the  moment  I  got  my  hand  on  the 
gunwale  of  the  boat  he  commenced  slicing  the  flesh 
off  my  arm,  from  the  wrist  down,  with  his  sheath- 
knife.  He  didn't  want  to  kill  me,  only  stop  me 
getting  into  the  boat.  Only  that  my  mate  saw  the 
row  from  the  schooner  I'd  have  been  killed  in  the  end, 


Prescott  of  Naura.  8 1 

sure  enough.  She  was  about  a  couple  of  hundred 
fathoms  away,  and  he  and  the  crew  commenced  firing 
over  towards  the  boat,  so  as  to  scare  the  boy  away.  It 
did  scare  him,  too,  for  as  the  first  ball  hummed  by 
him  he  jumped  over  on  the  other  side  and  dived 
ashore,  leaving  me  just  able  to  crawl  aboard  and  fall 
unconscious  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  And  I  don't 
tackle  the  Solomon  Islands  any  more,  my  son." 

"  Well,"  said  Watson, "  you're  in  a  nice  quiet  trade 
now,  among  the  Christianised  and  c  saved '  kanakas  of 
the  Cook  Group,  where  the  once  shocking  heathen 
goes  about  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind." 

"  Aye,"  grinned  the  old  skipper,  "  they  do,  the 
dirty  beggars.  Once  a  kanaka  gets  *  saved,'  and  wears 
European  clothing,  he  gets  very  filthy  in  his  habits, 
and  won't  wash  himself,  and  puts  on  such  a  look  of 
greasy  saintliness  that  there's  no  living  on  the  same 
island  with  them — unless  you  chew  off  the  same  plug 
as  the  white  missionary.  So  it's  no  wonder  that  so 
many  of  these  old  white  traders  among  the  eastern 
islands  are  shoving  out  to  the  westward,  where  they 
can  at  least  live  without  interference  from  the  white- 
chokered  gentry.  I've  got  an  old  fellow  aboard  now, 
passenger  with  me.  He's  come  up  here  to  get  away 
to  New  Ireland,  or  the  Admiralty  Group,  via  Samoa." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Collier — Mike  Collier.  He's  a  tough  old  warrior, 
nearly  seventy,  I  think.  He's  been  trading  for  the 
Tahiti  people  in  the  Gambiers,  he  tells  me,  but  says 
the  French  missionaries  and  he  didn't  hit  it,  so  he's 
going  west  again.  He's  a  nice,  pleasant  old  fellow, 
doesn't  drink,  but  is  a  bit  queer  in  his  ways." 

u  Old  age,"  suggested  Watson, 

7 


82  Prescott  of  Naur  a. 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  he  won't  come  ashore  and  live. 
He  says  he'll  wait  till  he  gets  a  passage  to  Samoa. 
Says  he  likes  the  smell  of  the  copra  in  the  hold,  and 
doesn't  like  mixing  with  shore  people.  So  I've  agreed 
to  let  him  stay  aboard  till  we're  ready  for  sea  again  ; 
then  he'll  have  to  shift  and  go  to  a  pub." 

The  trader  saw  Captain  Ross  several  times  after  this, 
and  on  each  occasion  he  mentioned  that  old  Mike  still 
remained  on  board,  and  had  not  yet  put  foot  ashore. 
"  However,"  added  Ross,  "  he'll  have  to  clear  out  to- 
morrow, as  I'm  bound  to  get  away  in  the  forenoon." 

"  Send  him  here,"  said  Watson  ;  "  he'll  be  a  good 
mate  for  me,  and  the  place  is  quiet  enough." 

"  Right,"  said  Ross,  "  I'll  bring  him  up  to-night." 

Sitting  in  his  bedroom  after  dinner,  smoking  his  pipe, 
Watson  heard  Captain  Ross's  gruff,  good-humoured 
voice  on  the  stairs.  He  was  speaking  to  some  one 
whom  Watson  at  once  surmised  was  the  eccentric  old 
trader  from  the  Gambiers.  Presently,  in  answer  to 
something  the  skipper  had  said,  he  heard  the  stranger 
speak. 

"  Yes,  there  are  a  good  many  stairs,  Captain.** 

The  sound  of  the  man's  voice — querulous  from  age 
— struck  the  trader  like  a  shot.  He  remembered  when 
and  where  he  had  heard  it  last.  In  a  few  seconds 
more  they  entered.  Watson  had  not  yet  lit  the  gas, 
and  the  room  was  in  comparative  darkness. 

"  Are  you  in,  Watson  ? "  said  Captain  Ross. 
"  Here's  old  Mr.  Collier  come  to  see  you.  Can 
you  get  him  a  room  ?  " 

"  Come  in,  Captain,"  replied  the  trader,  striking  a 
match  and  lighting  the  gas.  u  How  are  you,  sir  ?  " 
and  kc  nodded  to  the  old  trader,  who  had  quietly 


Prescott  of  Naur  a.  83 

seated  himself  at  the  further  end  of  the  room.  He  had 
his  own  reasons  for  not  shaking  hands  with  him. 
"  Oh,  yes,  you'll  get  a  room  here.  Sit  down,  Ross, 
and  I'll  send  for  something  to  drink." 

But  the  skipper  was  in  a  hurry  and  would  not  stay, 
and  shaking  hands  with  the  old  man  and  Watson  he 
bade  them  goodbye,  and  hurried  away  downstairs. 

Until  now  the  sick  trader  had  not  had  an  opportunity 
of  looking  at  his  visitor.  Turning  towards  him  after 
bidding  the  captain  goodbye,  he  caught  the  stranger's 
eye  fixed  upon  him. 

He  was  a  short  but  broad-shouldered  and  muscular 
man,  with  a  mass  of  wavy  white  hair  overhanging  his 
temples,  which,  with  the  rest  of  his  face  and  neck, 
were  burnt  by  long,  long  years  of  wandering  under  the 
torrid  sun  of  Polynesia  to  the  deepest  bronze.  His 
face  was  cleanly  shaven,  and  were  it  not  for  the  white- 
ness of  his  hair  would  have  seemed  absolutely  youthful, 
so  free  was  it  from  the  lines  and  indentations  of  advanced 
age.  And — a  fitting  accompaniment  to  the  broad, 
square  jaw  and  firm,  determined  mouth — his  eyes 
were  of  a  bright  steely  blue,  and  met  the  trader's  in  a 
calm,  assured,  but  yet  irritating  and  aggressive  manner. 

For  a  moment  or  two  they  looked  at  each  other 
steadily,  and  then,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  the  old 
man  placed  his  dark,  sunburnt  hands  on  his  knees  and 
laughed. 

"  Well,  young  fellow,  you'll  know  me  next  time,  I 
hope." 

The  cold,  sneering  inflexion  of  his  tones  irritated 
the  trader.  It  was  a  direct  challenge. 

"  I  know  you  as  it  is,"  he  answered.  "  You  are 
Prescott  of  Naura." 


84  Prescott  of  Naura. 

In  an  instant  the  stranger  leapt  up,  stood  beside 
Watson,  and  seized  his  hands  in  a  vice-like  grip,  and 
the  trader  heard  his  teeth  grind  savagely,  and  felt  his 
hot,  panting  breath  upon  his  cheek. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  savage  voice,  "I  am 
Prescott,  from  Pleasant  Island,  and  I'll  strangle  you 
like  a  dog  if  you  tell  it  to  any  one  else." 

Suddenly  he  let  go  Watson's  hands. 

"  Look  here,  you're  a  sick  man,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  take  advantage  of  it.  Now  listen  to  me.  I  am 
an  old  man,  and  life  isn't  worth  much  to  me.  But, 
look  here — what  harm  have  I  ever  done  you  ? " 

"  None,"  said  Watson,  "  nor  have  I  any  evil  inten- 
tions towards  you.  Whatever  you  have  done  does  not 
concern  me  personally." 

The  old  man  sat  down  again,  and  bent  his  fierce 
blue  eyes  upon  the  ground.  For  a  minute  or  so  he 
remained  silent,  then  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  paced 
the  room  rapidly. 

"  Where  did  you  see  me  before  ?  "  he  asked. 

"At  Gallic  Harbour,  in  the  Admiralty  Group," 
replied  Watson.  "  You  came  on  board  the  Dancing 
Wave  to  see  Captain  Leeman  about  buying  some 
tobacco  from  him.  I  was  the  supercargo." 

"  Ha  !  I  remember  you.  And  where  is  Leeman 
now  ?  " 

"  Dead,"  answered  Watson.  "  He  died  in  the  Gulf 
of  Carpentaria,  and  was  buried  on  Adolphus  Island." 

The  old  man  nodded.  Then  he  stopped  short  in 
his  walk. 

"  Are  you  a  poor  man  ?  " 

"  What  the  devil  does  that  matter  to  you  ? " 
answered  Watson,  shortly 


Prescott  of  Naur  a.  85 

He  turned  away  and  picked  up  a  small  portmanteau 
that  he  had  brought  with  him,  opened  if  and  took  out 
a  small  canvas  bag  and  threw  it  contemptuously  on  the 
table. 

"Those  are  sovereign* — good  English  sovereigns. 
Will  they  buy  your  silence,  and  let  an  old  and  hunted 
man  escape  to  some  unknown  spot  where  he  may  die 
in  peace  ?  " 

"  You  may  go,"  said  Watson,  "  and  take  your  sove- 
reigns with  you.  Murderer  and  fiend  as  you  are,  I 
cannot  give  you  up  to  justice.  The  witnesses  of  your 
horrible  crime  are  all  dead.  But  I  would  like  to  see 
you  hanged." 

He  looked  at  the  trader  intently  for  half  a  minute, 
and  then  taking  up  the  bag  of  sovereigns  dropped  it 
back  into  the  portmanteau,  closed,  locked,  and  strapped 
it.  Then  again  he  paced  to  and  fro  like  a  tiger  in  a 
cage. 

"  Do  you  know  all  about  me  ?  "  he  said,  suddenly, 
in  a  strangely  harsh  voice. 

"  A  good  deal,"  replied  the  younger  man. 

Again  he  laughed  savagely.  "  And  yet  you  won't 
give  me  away  to  the  white  men  ! " 

"Don't  you  call  yourself  a  white  man?"  said 
Watson. 

"  No,"  he  growled  back,  "  I  am  not  a  white  man. 
The  cat  took  all  of  the  white  man  out  of  me  at  Port 
Arthur  ;  and  for  fifty  years  I  have  lived  with  kanakas, 
and  I  am  a  kanaka  now — backbone  and  soul." 

Without  a  word  of  farewell  he  picked  up  his  port- 
manteau, passed  through  the  door,  and  went  down- 
stairs. 

Watson,  looking  out  through  the  window  into  the 


86  Prescott  of  Naura. 

street,  presently  saw  his  short,  square-set  figure  appear 
upon  the  footpath.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  stood 
under  the  glare  of  a  gas-lamp,  then,  with  a  quick, 
active  step,  he  strode  across  the  street  and  was  lost  to 
view. 


Chester s    "Cross" 

THE  Montiara^  trading  schooner,  had  finished  taking 
in  her  stores,  and  hauled  out  to  an  anchorage  in  Hono- 
lulu Harbour,  ready  to  start  on  one  of  her  usual  trading 
cruises  to  the  Caroline  Group.  The  captain,  accom- 
panied by  his  supercargo,  had  gone  ashore  again  to  the 
British  Consulate  for  his  papers,  letters,  &c.,  leaving 
the  two  mates  in  charge  to  amuse  themselves  till  his 
return  by  playing  cut-throat  euchre  with  some  of  the 
brown-skinned  kanaka  crew — for  they  were  a  sociable 
lot  aboard  the  Montiara,  and,  when  he  first  joined  the 
ship,  had  given  young  Denison,  the  supercargo,  much 
cause  for  reflection.  This,  however,  was  his  second 
voyage  ;  and  he  now  knew  that  "  Tarawa  Bob  "  and 
"  Rotumah  Tom,"  two  huge,  soft-hearted,  hard-fisted 
able  seamen,  whose  light  brown  skins  were  largely 
illustrated  by  fantastic  devices  in  blue  and  vermilion, 
were  the  respective  brothers-in-law  of  the  gentlemen 
who  officiated  as  first  and  second  mates  of  the  schooner 
— Messrs.  Joe  Freeman  and  Pedro  do  Ray.  And  if, 
occasionally,  their  superior  position  made  these  officers 
in  times  of  emergency  address  their  tattooed  brethren- 
in-law  in  vigorous  and  uncomplimentary  language, 
emphasised  by  a  knock-down  blow,  no  ill-will  was 

39 


90  Chester's  "  Cross" 

either  felt  on  one  side  nor  engendered  on  the  other. 
Therefore,  in  moments  of  relaxation,  when  the  ship 
lay  at  anchor  and  there  was  nothing  to  do,  the  two 
white  men  seated  on  one  side  of  the  skylight  and  the 
two  brown  on  the  other,  with  a  large  bottle  of  Hol- 
lands gin  between  them,  would  endeavour  to  rook 
each  other  at  cards.  Sometimes,  too,  Denison  had 
witnessed  further  proof  of  the  camarardtrie  existing 
between  all  the  hands  for'ar'd  and  the  two  mates, 
when  the  latter,  overflowing  with  generosity  and 
strong  drink,  would  invite  their  coloured  shipmates 
to  come  ashore  and  paint  the  town  red.  All  these 
things  surprised  Denison — for  he  was  very  young 
then,  and  came  from  a  religious  family.  But  he 
gained  experience  later  on,  when  he  sailed  with 
Packenham  in  the  brig  Indiana^  as  you  will  see  in 
another  story. 

So  with  a  parting  admonition  to  his  officers  to  let 
no  one  go  ashore,  and  to  heave  short  at  four  o'clock,  as 
soon  as  they  saw  him  coming  down  the  wharf,  old 
Hunter,  the  grizzled  skipper  and  owner  of  the  little 
schooner,  had  shoved  off  and  pulled  in  to  the  pretty 
palm-embowered  town  nestling  under  the  shadows  of 
Diamond  Head. 

"  How  are  you,  Hunter  ? "  said  the  Consul,  as  soon 
as  the  captain  and  Denison  entered  his  office.  "I'm 
glad  you've  come  in  just  now.  I've  had  a  visitor — a 
lady  from  San  Francisco.  She  arrived  here  yesterday 
by  the  Moses  Taylor ;  wants  to  know  if  I  can  get  her 
a  passage  down  to  the  Caroline  Group." 

"  The  deuce  !  "  said  Hunter.  "  /  can't  take  her  in 
the  Montiara.  And  what  on  earth  does  she  want  to 
go  down  there  for  ?  Is  she  a  she-mission'ry  ?  " 


Chester  s  "  Cross."  91 

The  Consul  laughed  at  the  sour  expression  on  the 
old  seaman's  face  ;  then  he  became  grave. 

"  No,  she's  not  a  missionary,  Hunter,  and  I  really 
do  wish  you  could  see  your  way  clear  to  take  her — she 
seems  terribly  anxious." 

"  But,  man,  I  can't.  My  cabin  is  only  a  small  one, 
and  there's  my  two  mates  and  Mr.  Denison  here, 
besides  myself,  to  occupy  all  the  room,  which  is  very 
little.  But  if  she's  not  a  she-mission 'ry,  what  in 
thunder  does  she  want  down  in  the  Carolines  ? " 

The  Consul  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  can  only 
tell  you  that  she's  a  lady — mind,  Hunter,  a  lady — a 
widow,  I  suppose,  as  she  has  a  little  boy  with  her — and 
she  is  now  staying  at  the  hotel.  She  told  me  her 
name — here  it  is,"  and  he  took  up  a  card — "  Mrs. 
Hilda  Weston — and  that  she  hurried  down  here  from 
San  Francisco  in  the  mail-boat  to  catch  the  Morning 
Star,  missionary  brig.  But,  as  you  know,  the  Morning 
Star  sailed  for  the  Carolines  a  week  ago." 

u  And  I  hope  she  may  get  piled  up  there,"  growled 
old  Hunter,  who  did  not  love  missionaries,  "  and  the 
snufflebusting  crowd  of  thieves  on  board  of  her  go  to 
the  bottom  with  her." 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  Consul,  "  that  seemed  to  upset 
her  greatly.  It  seems  that  she  had  been  promised,  and 
counted  upon,  a  passage  in  the  missionary  brig.  What 
was  she  to  do  ?  she  asked,  when  I  told  her  that  the 
Morning  Star  would  not  be  back  here  and  sail  again 
for  the  Carolines  for  another  six  months.  Then  I 
thought  of  you.  It  struck  me  that  you  might  manage 
to  fix  her  and  the  little  boy  a  berth  somehow.  She 
has  plenty  of  money — that  I  can  vouch  for  ;  said  she 
would  pay  as  much  as  five  hundred  dollars  for  a  passage, 
and  not  complain  of  any  discomfort." 


92  Chester  s  "  Cross." 

Hunter  looked  first  at  the  Consul  and  then  at 
Dcnison  doubtfully,  and  then  shook  his  head.  A 
hundred  pounds  was  a  nice  little  sum  for  a  passage 
that  would  only  take  fourteen  or  fifteen  days,  and  yet 
it  could  not  be  done.  The  one  small  deck-house  of 
the  schooner  was  occupied  by  his  officers'  wives,  and 
it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  turn  them  out  of  it  to  sleep  on 
deck.  Joe  and  Pedro  wouldn't  mind,  provided  a 
financial  reason  were  adduced  for  their  benefit,  but  the 
women  would,  and  so  would  the  ladies'  brothers,  who 
would  sulk  over  the  indignity — kanaka  sailors  have 
some  blessed  privileges  over  those  of  the  ordinary 
British  sailor-man. 

"  Here,  take  her  card,"  said  the  Consul,  "  and  go 
and  see  her  yourself.  You  may,  perhaps,  be  able  to 
make  arrangements  in  some  way.  Anyway,  she  seems 
very  anxious  to  meet  you,  and  I  gave  her  my  promise 
that  you  would  call." 

"  Oh,  did  you  ?  "  grumbled  Hunter.  «  Well,  here 
you  are,  Denison,  you  go  and  see  her — you  look  so 
nice  and  pretty  in  that  white  duck  suit  of  yours,  that 
I  wouldn't  think  of  going  myself.  And  look  here, 
sonny,  tell  her  that  I  can't  possibly  give  her  a  passage 
down  this  trip,  but  will  the  next,  in  about  four  months 
from  now.  That  will  be  two  months  sooner  than  the 
Morning  Star.  But,  wait  a  minute — find  out  what 
island  she  wants  to  go  to,  and  if  it  is  anywhere  this 
side  of  Ponape  I'll  land  her  there  for  ^50 — that's 
about  a  fair  thing." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Denison  had  waited  five  minutes  in  a  sitting-room 
of  the  hotel  when  she  came  in — a  pretty,  fair-haired 
woman,  with  deep,  wistful  hazel  eyes.  Her  face  was 


Chester  s  "  Cross."  93 

deathly  pale,  and  Denison's  heart  somehow  went  out 
to  her  in  quick  sympathy — there  was  such  an  under- 
lying sadness  in  her  looks. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Weston,"  she  said  in  a  voice  that 
quivered  with  trembling  excitement,  as  she  motioned 
the  young  man  to  resume  his  seat,  "but  surely  you 
are  not  the  captain  of  the  Montiara  ? "  as  the  hazel 
eyes  took  in  his  youthful  appearance. 

"  No,  madam.  My  name  is  Denison.  I  am  the 
supercargo."  And  then  he  gave  her  the  skipper's 
message. 

A  quick  mist  came  into  the  dark  eyes,  and  she 
pressed  her  hand  to  her  throat.  Then  she  found  her 
voice. 

"  Four  months  is  a  long  time  to  wait ;  but  it 
cannot  be  helped,  I  suppose,"  and  she  turned  her  face 
away  from  him  and  seemed  to  look  out  over  the  blue 
waters  of  the  harbour,  but  Denison  saw  heavy  tears 
falling  upon  a  native  fan  that  she  held  in  her  hand. 

Presently  she  rose,  went  to  the  window  and  stood 
there  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  gazing  seaward. 
Then,  with  the  traces  of  tears  still  upon  her  face,  she 
came  back  to  her  seat  and  said  with  a  brave  smile — 

"  You  must  think  me  very  childish  to  show  my 
disappointment  so  much  ;  but  I  am  oh,  so  very,  very 
disappointed.  When  I  left  California  I  was  told  that 
I  should  be  in  plenty  of  time  for  the  Morning  Star ; 
but  unfortunately  the  Moses  Taylor  broke  down  when 
half-way,  and  we  arrived  eight  days  late,  to  find  the 
missionary  ship  had  gone.  But  when  I  heard  that 
there  was  a  trading  schooner  to  sail  in  a  few  days  I 
thought — "  Again  her  eyes  filled,  and  Denison  bent 
his  head  and  pretended  not  to  notice.  He  felt  deeply 


94  Chester's  "  Cross" 

sorry,  but  could  not  venture  to  tell  her  so.  Then  he 
rose  to  go,  but  she  begged  him  to  remain  a  little  while. 

"  Please  don't  go  for  a  few  minutes,"  she  murmured, 
and  then  smiled.  "I  am  sure  you  are  English,  are 
you  not  ?  Ah,  I  thought  so.  I  am  an  English- 
woman, but  have  lived  so  long  in  America  that  I 
like  to  meet  an  Englishman.  Every  one  in  Honolulu 
is  American,  I  think,  and  I  have  felt  very  lonely 
here."  Then  her  courage  seemed  to  rise,  and  bending 
forward  she  asked — 

"  Mr.  Denison,  is  there  any  use  at  all  in  my 
appealing  to  your  captain  to  give  me  a  passage  in 
his  vessel.  I  told  Mr.  Roche,  the  Consul,  that  I 
would  willingly  pay  ^100;  but  I  shall  gladly  pay 
more.  I  will  give  ^200 — more — if  that  amount  is 
not  enough." 

Denison  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  indeed  very  sorry 
to  say  so,  Mrs.  Weston,  but  it  is  impossible  for  us  to 
take  you  down  this  trip.  In  the  first  place  we  are 
already  short  of  room,  and  in  the  second  we  call  at 
the  Marshall  Group  for  thirty  or  forty  deck  passengers 
— native  divers  we  are  taking  down  to  the  Carolines. 
No  white  woman  could  possibly  live  on  board  the 
same  ship  with  such  a  noisy  lot." 

She  sighed  deeply.  "I  must  be  content  to  wait 
then.  Now,  Mr.  Denison,  may  I  ask  you  if  you  will 
tell  me  something  about  the  Caroline  Islands  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure — that  is,  all  I  can  tell  you.  I  have 
only  made  one  voyage  there — in  fact,  the  present  will 
be  only  my  second  voyage  in  this  part  of  the  Pacific." 

She  looked  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  then  with  a 
violent  rush  of  colour  suffusing  her  face  from  temple 
to  throat  asked — 


Chester  s  "  Cross."  95 

"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Tom  Chester — one  of  the 
traders  living  down  there  ?  " 

"  Where  does  he  live — I  mean  at  what  particular 
island.  There  are  many  hundreds  of  islands  in  the 
Eastern  and  Western  Carolines.'* 

"On  Las  Matelotas — that  is,  he  did  so  three  or 
four  years  ago.  He  is  very  dark — and  fond  of  sing- 
ing." 

Now  Denison  did  know  the  man  she  spoke  of — 
knew  him  well,  and  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  Most 
supercargoes  do  not  care  about  giving  information 
concerning  traders  to  utter  strangers — so  many  of 
them  have  reasons  for  burying  themselves  in  the 
Pacific  Islands.  And  he  knew  that  old  Hunter 
thought  much  of  the  man,  and  would  not  like  his 
supercargo  giving  even  this  beautiful  young  creature 
any  information  about  him,  so  he  hesitated  ere  he 
answered. 

"  I  may  know  him.     I  cannot  say  for  certain." 

"  This  is  Mr.  Chester,"  she  said,  quickly,  and  before 
he  knew  it  he  was  holding  a  photograph  in  his  hand. 
The  woman  watched  him  keenly. 

Denison  recognised  it  immediately  as  the  man  he 
knew  as  Tom  Chester — mata  uliy  the  dark-faced,  as 
the  Las  Matelotas  people  called  him. 

He  was  about  to  lie,  and  say,  "  I  don't  know  him," 
but,  looking  up,  he  met  her  deep,  earnest  eyes — and 
failed. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him,"  he  said  ;  "  he  is  one  of  our 
traders.  He  is  well  known  down  there,  and  liked. 
Is  he  a  friend  of  yours  ? " 

"  Yes "  ;  and  again  the  red  flush  leapt  to  her  face, 
"  a  very  dear  friend,"  and  then  with  a  curious,  shaking 


96  Chester's  "  Cross:' 

intonation,  "I  am  very  anxious  to  see  him.  He  is 
my  cousin.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  four  or  five 
years.  My  husband  died  six  months  ago  in  America, 
and  there  are  family  matters  which  Mr.  Chester  must 
be  consulted  about,  and — and  a  great  many  things 
demand  his  attention.  I — that  is,  my  late  husband 
and  my  relatives  have  written  to  him  several  times 
during  the  past  three  years,  but  the  letters  no  doubt 
never  reached  him.  We  only  knew  that  he  was 
somewhere  in  the  South  Sea  Islands,  and  the  letters 
were  directed  to  the  care  of  the  Consuls  at  the  various 
ports.  From  one  of  these  we  eventually  heard  that 
a  Mr.  Chester  had  a  trading  station  at  Las  Matelotas, 
in  the  Western  Carolines.  And  so,  in  despair  of 
communicating  with  him  by  letter,  I — that  is,  his  and 
my  relatives,  consented  to  my  coming  out  here  to  him." 

Denison  bowed,  but  said  nothing,  and  she  went  on 
hurriedly  :  "  I  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of  what  a  task  I 
was  undertaking.  I  really  imagined  that  any  part  of 
the  South  Sea  Islands  could  be  reached  in  a  few  days 
from  San  Francisco." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  difficult  undertaking  for  a  lady.  I 
do  not  want  to  dishearten  you,  but  could  you  not 
send  some  one  else — is  there  no  male  relative 
who " 

"  No,"  she  said  quickly  with  a  nervous  movement 
of  her  hands  ;  "  I  have  no  brothers  nor  any  one  I 
would  care  to  ask.  I  prefer  to  go  myself." 

She  was  silent  awhile,  and  just  then  a  little  boy, 
about  five  years  of  age,  came  into  the  room  and  nestled 
beside  her,  smiling  shyly  at  Denison.  She  drew  the 
child  to  her  and  then,  as  she  stroked  his  head,  said  in 
a  voice  that  she  strove  to  steady — 


Chester's  "  Cross"  97 

"  Oh,  is — is — he,  is  Mr.  Chester  married  ?  n 

That  question,  as  Denison  told  old  Hunter  later 
on,  took  him  flat  aback.  (And  yet  he  might  have  ex- 
pected it.)  Anyway  it  was  a  hard  question  to  answer, 
especially  when  the  inquirer  was  a  young  and  pretty 
woman  with  perhaps  no  idea  of  the  unconventionalities 
obtaining  in  island  life.  To  say  that  Chester  was 
married  in  the  orthodox,  English  sense  of  the  word 
would  not  have  been  correct ;  to  say  that  he  was  not 
was  equally  misleading,  inasmuch  as  Nirani,  the 
young  Bonin  Island  quadroon  girl  who  controlled  his 
domestic  arrangements  and  looked  after  his  trading 
business  during  his  absence,  was  known  and  spoken 
of  all  over  the  group  as  "Tom  Chester's  wife." 
And  so  he  hesitated  before  answering.  He  was  young, 
but  yet  old  enough  to  know  from  the  look  in  the 
woman's  eyes  that  much  depended  to  her  upon  his 
answer. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  very  slowly,  lifting  his 
eyes  to  hers  calmly  in  a  manner  that  said  plainly 
enough,  "  You  should  not  have  asked  such  a  ques- 
tion." 

Mrs.  Weston  rose  and  extended  her  hand  to  him. 
"You  must  pardon  me,  Mr.  Denison,  if  I  have 
seemed  unduly  inquisitive ;  but  I  know  perfectly 
what  you  mean.  I  am  no  silly  girl,  but  a  woman 
of  twenty-six  .  .  .  and  I  am  told  that  white  people 
living  in  the  islands  think  but  little  of — of — making 
temporary  alliances  with  the  natives.  But  there,  I 
shall  ask  you  no  more.  I  am  much  older  than  you, 
so  you  must  forgive  me  if  I  have  annoyed  you.  Of 
course  you  will  take  a  letter  for  me  ? " 

uWith  pleasure,  I  assure  you,  but  you   will   not 
8 


98  Chester*  "  Cross.' 


have  much  time — we  shall  certainly  be  under  weigh 
in  an  hour." 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  write  it  at  once,  and  myself 
bring  it  down  to  your  boat.  Good  bye,  and  give  my 
sincere  thanks  to  your  captain  should  I  not  see  him." 

Half  an  hour  later  as  Hunter  and  his  supercargo 
turned  down  towards  the  wharf  she  met  them,  gave 
them  the  letter,  and  wished  them  a  prosperous  voyage, 
and,  she  added  with  a  smile,  "a  very  quick  return." 

"  I've  seen  that  handwriting  before  now,"  said  the 
skipper  to  Denison  as  the  latter  put  Mrs.  Weston's 
letter  in  a  rack  above  his  berth  ;  "seen  it  a  good 
many  times." 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Denison  in  surprise. 

"  Here,  aboard  the  Montiara,  and  aboard  the  old 
Talaloo  when  I  was  sailing  out  o'  Samoa  to  the 
Gilbert  and  Marshall  Group.  Why,  I've  carried  at 
least  half  a  dozen  letters  in  that  same  writing,  and 
all  directed  to  Tom  Chester  ;  but  I  never  knew  until 
now  who  wrote  'em.  Look  here,  sonny,  Chester 
has  got  a  cross,  like  most  of  us  men  has,  an'  that 
cross  is  going  to  follow  him  up.  You  see  if  she  don't." 

"  She's  a  cousin  of  his  she  tells  me." 
•  Hunter  grinned.  "O'  course,  only  a  cousin  or  a 
sister  would  write  to  a  man  so  frequent.  I  can  guess 
the  reason  now  why  Chester  is  living  down  in  the 
Carolines.  I  suppose  this  is  the  woman  that  threw 
him  over  and  married  another  man  with  money. 
Well,  it  isn't  any  of  our  business ;  but  Chester 
doesn't  like  getting  those  letters — in  fact,  I  believe 
he'd  like  to  tell  me  to  drop  'em  overboard." 


Chester  s  "  Cross.''  99 

The  Montlara  made  a  quick  run  down  to  the 
Marshall  Islands,  ran  into  Milli  Lagoon,  took  aboard 
forty  wild-eyed,  long-haired,  half-naked,  vociferous 
native  passengers,  and  then  spun  away  westward 
before  the  stiff  north-east  trades  towards  the  Carolines. 
Ten  days  later  she  worked  through  the  tortuous 
passage  leading  into  Matelotas  Lagoon,  and  dropped 
anchor  abreast  of  the  native  village  and  half  a  mile 
away  from  the  trader's  house. 

A  wild  clamour  of  welcome  from  some  hundreds 
of  handsome  light-skinned  natives  greeted  Hunter 
and  Denison,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  decks  were 
thronged  with  the  warm-hearted,  simple-minded 
people — men,  women,  and  children — who  all  seemed 
animated  by  an  overpowering  desire  to  embrace  and 
caress  the  rough,  grizzled  old  skipper  of  the  schooner 
— a  man  whom  they  trusted  and  idolised.  And  the 
girls  swarmed  into  the  little  cabin  without  fear. 

Presently  a  whaleboat,  manned  by  five  stalwart 
natives,  and  steered  by  a  slightly-built  but  muscular- 
looking  white  man,  swept  alongside,  and  Chester 
stepped  on  the  schooner's  deck. 

"  How  are  you  ? "  he  said,  shaking  hands  warmly 
with  Hunter,  Denison,  and  the  two  mates — the  only 
white  men  on  board.  "Ah,  I  see  you've  brought 
down  those  fellows  from  Milli.  Well,  to-morrow 
we'll  pick  out  the  best  divers  among  them  and  try 
the  deep  part  of  the  lagoon,  over  Ngoli  side.  I  am 
quite  confident,  Hunter,  that  if  the  water  isn't  too 
deep  there  is  a  little  fortune  waiting  for  us  at  the 
bottom." 

"  Well,  I  hope  so,  Chester,  but  I'm  rather  doubtful 
about  it — all  the  pearl-shell  I've  seen  taken  out  of 


ioo  Chester's  "  Cross." 

these  lagoons  at  any  depth  was  big  enough,  but  badly 
worm-eaten.  However,  I've  brought  you  down 
these  fellows  from  Milli,  and  if  the  water  is  too 
deep  for  them,  why,  we  must  do  the  other  thing — get 
a  couple  of  suits  and  two  good  divers  down  from 
Sydney." 

A  few  minutes  later,  as  the  three  men  were  sitting 
together  in  the  cabin  over  a  glass  of  grog  and  talking 
about  their  forthcoming  attempt  on  the  deep  water 
"  patches "  of  pearl-shell  in  Ngoli  lagoon,  Denison 
said — 

"  Oh,  I've  a  letter  for  you,  Chester,"  and  stepping 
into  his  cabin  he  returned  with  it  and  handed  it  to 
the  trader. 

Chester  took  the  letter,  looked  at  the  superscription, 
and,  with  an  unmoved  face,  put  it  in  the  pocket  of 
his  duck  jumper.  Then  he  asked  the  others  if  they 
were  coming  ashore  with  him. 

"  Not  now,"  answered  the  captain  ;  "  at  least,  I'm 
not.  But  Denison  can  go  with  you  and  lend  you 
a  hand  with  the  Gilbert  Islanders — a  noisy,  intractable 
lot  of  devils  they  are.  Have  you  got  a  house  ready 
for  'em  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Chester  in  his  slow,  quiet 
way  ;  "  I've  had  a  place  fixed  up  for  them  for  a 
month  past.  Nirani  will  see  to  them  as  soon  as  they 
get  ashore." 

The  trader's  house  stood  a  little  over  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away  from  the  native  village,  and  was  a  com- 
fortable one-storied  place,  built  entirely  of  wood  and 
cane  wickerwork  in  semi-European  fashion.  On 
the  ground  floor  was  Chester's  store,  the  upper 
portion  of  the  house  being  merely  a  huge  combined 


Chester's  "  Cross ."  101 

sitting,  dining,  and  sleeping-room.  As  he  and 
Denison  entered  a  pretty,  dark-eyed  young  native 
woman  met  them  and  shook  hands  with  the  latter. 

"  How  ar'  you,  Mr.  Denison  ?  "  she  said,  her  red 
lips  parting  in  a  smile  that  showed  her  pretty  teeth. 
"An'  so  you  an'  Cap'en  Hunter  have  brought  the 
divers  down  this-a-time.  W'y,  Tom,  here,  he  have 
been  fret  like  a  little  child  ev'ry  day  because  the 
Montiara  so  long  time  comin'.  Now,  he  satisfy,  I 
suppose "  ;  and  then  with  a  merry  laugh  she  led  the 
way  to  the  big  room  upstairs,  and  a  minute  later  was 
bustling  about  scolding  and  occasionally  administering 
a  smart  but  jocose  slap  on  the  shoulders  to  two  half- 
nude  young  native  girls  who  were  setting  the  table 
for  Hunter,  Denison,  and  the  two  mates.  Clad  in 
a  loose  blouse  and  skirt  of  thinnest  texture,  her  every 
movement  revealed  the  outlines  of  her  lithe,  graceful 
form,  and  Denison  watched  her  as  one  watches  the 
movements  of  a  beautitul  bird  fluttering  from  bough 
to  bough,  with  a  pleased  fascination. 

A  merry  time  was  spent  in  the  trader's  house  that 
night,  for  Chester  sang  well,  and  Nirani,  who  was 
of  Portuguese  blood,  and  Pedro  do  Ray,  the  second 
mate,  sang  duets  and  love  songs  to  their  own  guitar 
accompaniments,  while  the  forty  Gilbert  Islanders, 
overjoyed  at  getting  ashore,  gathered  beneath,  inside 
Chester's  fence,  and  danced  their  own  wild  island 
dance,  and  then  took  to  wrestling,  till  the  loud  clang 
of  eight  bells  from  the  schooner  broke  up  the  gather- 
ing and  sent  every  one,  white  and  brown,  to  their 
couches  of  soft  mats. 

Soon  after  daylight  the  schooner's  two  boats,  manned 
by  about  twenty  of  the  Gilbert  Island  natives,  with 


102  Chester's  "  Cross.' 


Chester  and  Hunter  in  charge,  set  out  to  test  the 
deeper  water  of  the  lagoon  for  pearl-shell,  while 
Denison  remained  on  board  to  see  to  getting  Chester's 
stores  and  trade  goods  ashore. 

At  noon  the  boats  returned,  and  Denison  at  once 
saw  by  the  captain's  face  that  he  was  pleasurably 
excited.  His  news  was  soon  told — Chester's  surmise 
was  correct  :  there  was  plenty  of  splendid  pearl-shell 
in  the  deep  water,  but  at  a  depth  that  it  was 
impossible  to  work  successfully  without  proper  diving 
gear.  Every  one  of  the  Gilbert  Islanders  had  gone 
down  ;  but  only  four  or  five  had  succeeded  in  bring- 
ing up  shell,  and  were  then  so  exhausted  that  they 
could  not  possibly  be  sent  down  again.  But,  they 
said,  the  shell  lay  very  thick  amid  clusters  of  young 
coral. 

That  afternoon  after  dinner  on  board  it  was  decided 
that  the  schooner  should  proceed  with  all  haste  to 
Manila,  instead  of  Sydney,  where  Hunter  was  to  buy 
two  diving  dresses,  pumps,  and  gear,  and  engage  two 
Manila  men  as  divers.  Denison  was  to  remain  with 
Chester  and  enjoy  himself  as  he  best  could.  And 
then  Chester  went  ashore  to  tell  Nirani. 

As  soon  as  the  two  mates  had  left  the  table  Hunter, 
leaning  his  grizzled  chin  on  his  huge  hand,  addressed 
his  supercargo. 

"  Ha'  ye  told  Chester  about  your  meeting  wi'  the 
young  woman  at  Honolulu  ? " 

**  No,  why  should  I  ?  If  he  mentions  her  to  me  I 
might  do  so,  but  although  I  told  him  yesterday  that 
the  letter  was  given  to  me  personally,  he  only  nodded 
and  said,  *  Yes,  I  know  ;  thank  you.' " 

"  Well,  I'm  thinking  that  he  seems  very  down  in 


Chester s  "  Cross"  103 

the  mouth,  and  if  she  isn't  the  cause  of  it,  I  don't 
know  what  is.  And,  mind  ye,  had  I  known  who  the 
woman  was  I  would  never  ha'  made  her  that  promise 
to  bring  her  down  here.  Ye  see,  I  never  thought  of 
it  at  the  time.  And  then  there's  Nirani." 

Denison  nodded.  "  I  see  what  you  mean.  It's  an 
unpleasant  position.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

"  Just  nothing ;  but  as  soon  as  I  leave  for  Manila 
you  can  tell  him  that  I  didn't  know — and  that  now  as 
we  are  on  this  pearling  racket,  there's  not  much 
chance  of  the  Montiara  going  back  to  Honolulu 
this  year  at  all." 

"  Very  well  ;  but  you've  forgotten  the  Morning 
Star.  The  lady  will  come  down  by  her  if  our 
schooner  doesn't  turn  up." 

Hunter  gave  an  angry  exclamation.  "  Devil  take 
the  woman !  Here  we've  dropped  on  to  as  fine 
a  patch  of  shell  as  lies  in  the  Pacific  ;  it  will  take 
us  twelve  months  to  work  it  out,  and  if  this  woman 
comes  down  here  I  can  see  trouble  ahead  for  us 
all,  and  Chester  in  particular.  And  Nirani's  been 

a  good  girl  to  him,  d'ye  see.  D all  women 

as  proves  crosses  to  a  man,  I  say  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  what  we  can  do,  Hunter.  Of  course 
if  Chester  gives  me  a  chance  this  evening,  I'll  tell 
him  of  the  promise  you've  made.  At  the  same  time 
I  don't  think  it  necessary.  No  doubt  the  letter  he 
got  told  him  all  this.  But  you're  a  mean  old  dog  to 
put  everything  on  to  me." 

Early  on  the  following  morning  Hunter  came 
ashore  and  wished  Denison,  Chester,  and  Nirani 
goodbye,  and  an  hour  later  the  white  sails  of  the- 


104  Chester**  "  Cross" 

Afontiara  swept  round  the  low,  palm-clad  southern 
point  of  Las  Matelotas  and  were  lost  to  sight  from 
those  who  watched  on  shore. 

That  night  Chester  and  Denison  were  walking 
slowly  to  and  fro  on  the  white,  moonlit  path  at 
the  side  of  the  house,  smoking  and  talking.  Above 
them  in  the  big  sitting-room  a  light  shone  dimly 
through  the  latticed  sides  and  they  could  see  the 
shadow  of  Nirani  sitting  at  the  table  with  her  two 
girls,  looking  at  some  finery  that  old  Hunter  had 
brought  her  from  Honolulu. 

Chester  was  speaking.  "I  am  glad  you  have 
mentioned  it  anyway,  Denison.  Yes,  Mrs.  Weston 
did  tell  me  that  she  had  seen  you  and  that  she 
means  to  come  down  here.  Now,  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  five  years  ago  she  was  my  promised 
wife.  I  had  a  civil  appointment  in  South  Australia 
at  that  time.  From  Adelaide  I  was  sent  up  to 
a  God-forsaken  place  called  Port  Darwin  in  the 
Northern  Territory.  I  was  away  a  year.  When 
I  came  back  she  was  gone — had  married  some 
wealthy  old  American  three  months  before,  and  left 
the  colony." 

"She  wrote  to  me,  blaming  her  mother,  and 
said  all  the  usual  penny  novelette  things  about 
being  *  forced '  and  a  *  broken  heart '  and  all  that. 
Well,  God  knows  if  it  was  true.  I  know  her  mother 
was  a  match-making,  money-loving  old  devil,  who 
looked  upon  me  with  aversion — in  fact,  hated  me. 
Well,  that's  the  whole  yarn.  I  went  back  to  Port 
Darwin,  where  I  knew  some  pearl-shellers,  and 
went  on  a  cruise  with  them  to  New  Guinea, 
Ukcd  the  life,  and  finally  made  my  way  down  here 


Chester's  "  Cross"  105 

five  years  ago.  And  I'd  be  happy  enough  if  I  could 
only  think  that  I  am  free  of  blame.  You  see 
I've  never  answered  one  of  her  letters — I  swore  I 
would  never  forgive  her.  And  yet  I  may  have 
misjudged  her  cruelly." 

For  some  minutes  neither  of  the  two  men  spoke, 
and  then  Denison  said — 

"  It  is  a  hard  position  to  be  in,  I  must  admit." 

Chester  laughed  bitterly.  "  And  made  worse  by 
my  own  folly.  Of  course  it's  no  use  my  pretend- 
ing that  I  have  forgotten  her.  But  then  Nirani 
has  been  with  me  for  three  years  and  loves  me  in 

her  childish,  jealous  way.     And  by  G !  I'm  not 

going  to  desert  her  now  !  " 

•  •  •  •  • 

Before  the  month  was  out  the  Montiara  was 
back  in  the  lagoon  and  Chester  and  Denison  went 
aboard. 

"Well,  boys,  I've  got  everything,  two  good 
divers  included,"  said  Hunter,  gleefully,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  them.  "Come  below  an'  I'll  tell  ye 
all  about  my  doings"  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
three  men  were  seated  around  the  little  cabin  table 
listening  to  Hunter's  account  of  his  voyage,  and  dis- 
cussing their  future  operations  in  the  lagoon. 

"  Seen  any  ships  ? "  asked  Denison  casually  of 
Hunter. 

"  Yes,  the  Mattie^  of  New  Bedford ;  spoke  her 
yesterday  just  in  sight  of  the  land.  She's  bound  up 
to  Honolulu,  lost  four  of  her  boats,  and  is  leaking 
like  a  sieve." 

"  Where  do  you  think  she  is  now  ?  "  asked  Chester, 
slowly. 


106  Chester's  "  Cross" 

"  Can't  be  more  than  ten  miles  away  from  the 
weather  side  of  the  lagoon,"  replied  Hunter.  "She's 
beating  to  windward,  or  else  we  could  see  her  from 
here  now.  Why,  do  you  want  to  see  Burton  ?  " 
(the  captain  of  the  Afattie.) 

"  No,  not  particularly,  but,"  and  Chester  shot  a 
quick  glance  at  Denison,  "  I  would  like  to  send 
some  letters  by  him.  I  think  I'll  go  ashore  at  once 
and  send  my  boat  out  to  him.  If  he's  anywhere 
in  sight  the  boat  can  soon  board  him  —  there's  no 
wind  to  speak  of"  ;  and  then  arranging  to  meet 
Denison  and  Hunter  at  his  house  later  on,  he 
went  ashore. 

Late  that  evening  as  Chester  and  Denison  walked 
down  to  the  beach  to  see  Hunter  off  to  the  ship, 
the  former's  whaleboat  came  pulling  in  through  the 
darkness,  and  cleaving  the  phosphorescent  water  like 
an  arrow,  dashed  up  on  the  sandy  shore." 

"Find  the  ship,  Baril  ?  "  called  out  Chester. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  native  coxswain,  "  she 
no  got  wind.  I  give  captain  letter.  He  say  all 
right." 

"  Good  boy  !  Now  you  and  the  other  men  go 
up  to  the  house  and  get  some  supper  and  a  bottle  of 


As  soon  as  Hunter  had  left  Chester  said  to 
Denison,  "  Thank  Heaven  that  is  off  my  mind.  I've 
written  to  her  and  told  her  exactly  how  matters 
are.  She'll  get  that  letter  within  a  month  .  .  . 
I've  studied  the  thing  out  .  .  .  there's  a  right 
and  a  wrong  way  in  everything.  To  let  her  come 
here  if  I  could  stop  her  would  be  mean  and  cruel. 
Nirani  isn't  a  native  girl  ;  she  has  some  white 


Chester's  "  Cross:'  107 

blood  in  her  veins,  and   I'm  not   going   to   let   her 
know  that  I  wished  I  had  never  met  her." 

•  •  •  •  • 

For  nearly  four  months  the  white  men  worked 
assiduously  at  the  isolated  but  rich  beds  of  pearl- 
shell  in  the  deeper  parts  of  the  lagoon,  and  were 
well  rewarded  for  their  toil.  Already  over  four 
thousand  pounds  worth  of  shell  lay  in  the  Montiard's 
hold,  and,  provided  the  weather  kept  fine,  they 
expected  to  go  on  working  till  the  rainy  season 
and  westerly  gales  set  in. 

One  evening,  however,  as  the  boats  were  returning 
to  the  schooner  from  the  farther  end  of  the  lagoon, 
the  breeze,  which  had  been  steady  all  the  day,  suddenly 
dropped,  the  air  became  close  and  oppressive,  and 
Hunter  and  Chester,  who  were  in  the  same  boat, 
looked  at  each  other  in  some  alarm.  At  the  same 
time  numbers  of  natives  who  were  either  fishing  or 
walking  about  on  the  inner  beach  of  the  lagoon, 
uttered  loud  cries  and  ran  quickly  along  the  shore 
to  the  village. 

"  Down  sails ! "  roared  Hunter  to  the  boats  that 
were  following,  "  and  pull  hard  for  the  ship ! " 

The  native  crews,  knowing  well  the  danger  that 
menaced  them,  bent  to  their  oars  with  a  will  and 
sent  the  boats  flying  through  the  water.  Already 
they  could  tell  from  the  changing  sound  of  the 
surf  beating  upon  the  outer  reef  that  there  was  but 
little  time  left  ere  the  hurricane  would  be  sweeping 
across  the  now  glassy  waters  of  the  lagoon  and 
sending  roaring  billows  of  foam  high  up  among 
the  dense  groves  of  coco-palms. 

In   another    ten    minutes    the    three    boats    were 


io8  Chester's  "  Cross : 


alongside,  and  Hunter  and  his  crew  were  striking 
the  schooner's  topmasts  and  getting  awnings  down, 
while  the  cutter  with  the  pumping  gear  was  sent 
ashore  to  be  hauled  up  out  of  danger. 

"  Go  ashore,  Chester,  and  look  after  your  house, 
and  take  all  these  natives  with  you,"  said  Hunter. 
"  I  don't  want  to  be  cumbered  up  with  a  lot  of  extra 
men  on  deck  to-night.  I  tell  you  we're  going  to 
get  it  hot." 

"  My  house  is  all  right,  Hunter,"  replied  Chester. 
"I  can  see  some  of  my  people  on  the  ridge  of  it 
already,  passing  rope  lashings  over  it — trust  Nirani 
for  that.  She  has  seen  this  sort  of  thing  before, 
and  knows  what  has  to  be  done.  But  I'll  go  pre- 
sently, as  I  can't  be  of  any " 

Before  he  could  finish  a  hot  blast  of  wind  struck  the 
Montlara  with  mighty  force,  spun  her  half  round  like 
a  top,  and  then  shot  her  astern  till  her  cable  brought 
her  up  with  a  jerk  ;  and  then  with  a  savage,  droning 
sound,  the  hurricane  burst  upon  her. 

"We're  all  right  here  !"  yelled  Hunter  a  few  minutes 
later  in  Chester's  ear,  trying  to  make  himself  heard 
through  the  now  appalling  clamour  of  wind  and 
whistling  spray — "  unless  we  get  the  sweep  of  the 
sea  coming  in  the  passage — and  which  way  it'll  run 
we  can't  tell  yet."  And  then  through  the  fast- 
gathering  and  premature  darkness  that  was  envelop- 
ing even  the  white,  seething  sea  around  them  he 
looked  forward  to  where  Freeman,  the  mate,  stood, 
holding  on  to  the  forestay  and  standing  by  the 
second  anchor. 

•  •  •  •  • 

At  dawn  next  morning,  when  those  natives  who 


Chester s  "  Cross"  109 

lived  on  the  western  and  sheltered  side  of  Las  Mate- 
lotas  looked  across  the  lagoon,  they  saw  that  nothing 
remained  of  the  eastern  chain  of  islets  on  which  the 
principal  village  had  stood  but  a  line  of  isolated  sand- 
banks and  jagged  patches  of  coral  reef — every  living 
being  had  perished  in  the  awful  night.  And  whether 
the  end  had  come  upon  them  suddenly  or  they  had 
been  swept  away  when  endeavouring  to  cross  the 
narrow  channels  that  separated  the  palm-clad  islets,  was 
never  known. 

Six  miles  away,  lying  high  and  dry  amid  fallen 
palms  and  the  wreckage  of  native  houses,  lay  the 
once  trim  little  Montiara,  broken-backed  and  dis- 
masted, and  about  her  were  gathered  those  of  her 
crew  who  were  uninjured.  She  had  ridden  out  the 
storm  till  nearly  midnight,  when  she  parted  both 
cables  one  after  the  other.  In  vain  had  Hunter 
and  his  crew  tried  to  get  enough  sail  on  her  to 
work  up  under  the  western  beach  of  the  lagoon 
and  run  her  ashore  in  smoother  water — sea  after 
sea  swept  her  decks  and  drove  her  right  before  them. 

"Well,  it's  a  bad  job,"  said  Hunter,  philosophi- 
cally to  Denison,  as  he  surveyed  the  wreck  ;  "and 
yet  it  might  ha'  been  worse.  Anyway,  we've  got 
the  pearl-shell — and  know  where  we  can  get  more. 
How's  Chester  ? " 

"  Bad,  very  bad.  I'm  afraid  he  won't  pull  through, 
Hunter.  That  hole  in  the  back  of  his  head  is  enough 
to  settle  him,  let  alone  a  broken  arm  and  broken  ribs. 
I've  left  Pedro  with  him  for  a  bit.  I  wish  to  God  we 
had  a  doctor  here,  Hunter.  I  say,  I  wonder  why 
Nirani  hasn't  turned  up  before  now.  She  must  have 
seen  that  the  schooner  was  missing  at  daylight." 


no  Chester s  "  Cross" 

'*  Come  with  me,  my  lad,  and  I'll  show  you  why 
Nirani  isn't  here " ;  and  the  old  captain,  clambering 
over  the  wreckage  that  lay  about  them,  led  the  way 
down  to  a  point  of  the  beach  that  commanded  a 
view  of  the  whole  lagoon. 

"  Look  over  there  !  "  he  said. 

"  Good  God  !  "  said  Denison,  "  the  three  islands 
are  gone  !  " 

"  Aye,  swept  away  in  the  night.  And  not  a  soul 
has  escaped,  for  some  of  our  natives  have  been 
down  to  see.  Chester's  house  was  farthest  out  too. 
Poor  little  woman !  Don't  tell  him,  though — at 
least  not  yet." 

»  •  .  •  • 

Chester  didn't  die.  He  was  "too  tough  to  go 
under  very  easy,"  Hunter  said,  but  for  a  week  he 
lay  between  life  and  death,  nursed  with  rough  ten- 
derness by  his  white  and  brown  comrades,  and  then 
he  slowly  mended.  And  until  he  began  to  improve 
he  never  knew  that  Nirani  was  gone,  Hunter  and 
Denison,  in  reply  to  his  constant  inquiries,  telling 
him  that  she  was  sick  and  could  not  come  to  him, 
and  instructing  the  natives  who  occasionally  attended 
him  to  bear  out  their  story.  But  at  last  Denison 
told  him. 

"  I  thought  she  was  dead,  Denison,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"  Poor  girl,  poor  girl  !  " 

Then  he  "  worried  "  and  went  back  again  ;  Denison 
said  on  account  of  Nirani,  Hunter  said  on  account  of 
his  ribs  not  being  yet  "  setted." 

•  *  •  *  • 

Another  month  or  six  weeks  had  passed  by.  Hunter 
and  his  people  were  busy  building  a  cutter  out  of 


Chester s  "  Cross"  ill 

the  timbers  of  the  Montiara^  and  the  islands  of  Las 
Matelotas  lay  shining  white  and  green  in  the  yellow 
sunshine,  when  a  lumbering  old  barque,  with  many 
boats  hanging  from  her  davits,  ran  along  the  weather 
reef  of  the  lagoon  and  then  hove-to  off  the  passage. 

"  Hurrah  ! "  cried  old  Hunter,  flinging  down  his 
adze ;  "  it's  the  Amity  Parsons^  an'  Turner  is  sending  a 
boat  ashore.  We're  in  luck,  Denison.  He'll  give  us 
a  passage  to  Ponape,  and  there's  a  doctor  there  who'll 
soon  put  poor  Chester  to  rights."  For  Chester  had 
"gone  back,"  as  Hunter  called  his  relapse,  with  a 
vengeance,  and  although  he  heard  the  loud  cries  of  his 
excited  friends  when  the  ship  came  in  sight,  he  took 
no  heed  of  them  as  he  lay  in  his  little  thatched  house 
near  by. 

"  Wai,  this  is  er  surprise,"  said  Captain  Turner  as 
he  jumped  out  of  his  boat  and  shook  hands  with 
Hunter ;  "  I  cert'nly  didn't  reckon  to  find  the  Montiara 
piled  up  here.  Say,  whar's  Chester  ?  " 

Hunter  told  him  as  quickly  as  possible  the  story  of 
their  misfortunes. 

"  Wai,  this  is  real  vexin',  I  thought  I  done  a  foolish 
bit  of  business  in  doin'  what  I  hev  done — now  I'm 
certain  of  it.  Why,  I've  got  a  lady  passenger  and 
small  child  on  my  hands  now.  Now  what  on  airth 
am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"/know,"  said  Hunter,  cheerfully;  "just  come  up 
to  my  hut  and  I'll  tell  you  what  you're  going  to  do — 

and  a  d lucky  man  you  are  to  come  along  with 

your  greasy  old  blubber-hunter.  Look  here,  Turner, 
you're  going  to  take  me  and  all  the  Mont'iara's  crew  to 
Ponape,  and  Chester  as  well.  And  I'm  going  to  give 
ye  a  thousand  dollars  for  it." 


112  Chester's  "  Cross" 

u  It's  a  deal,"  said  Turner,  laconically,  as  he  followed 
Hunter  up  the  beach. 

At  sunset  that  evening  the  whaleship's  boats  took 
off  the  Montiardt  crew  and  the  bags  of  pearl-shell  j  in 
the  last  boat  were  Hunter,  Denison,  and  Chester. 

Scarcely  able  to  walk,  the  sick  man  was  led  below 
and  put  into  Turner's  own  cabin  by  the  ever-watchful 
Denison  and  the  whaleship's  black  steward. 

"  Thanks,  old  fellow,"  muttered  Chester,  extending 
his  hand  to  his  friend  ;  "  you  are  as  good  a  nurse  as  a 
woman." 

"  Am  I  ? "  laughed  Denison.  "I  think  you'll  change 
your  mind  about  that  when  you  do  get  a  woman 
nurse  ;  "  and  then  he  slipped  out  of  the  cabin. 

For  some  minutes  Chester  lay  listening  to  the 
sound  of  the  boats  being  hauled  up  to  the  davits.  The 
cabin  was  very  quiet  and  he  seemed  to  be  all  alone. 

Then  he  felt  a  soft  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  in  the 
dim  light  saw  the  face  of  Alice  Weston  close  to  his 
own. 

"  Alice !"  and  he  half  rose  from  the  bunk.  "Didn't 
you  get  my  letter  by  the  Mattie  ?  " 

"  No,  darling.  Did  you  write  me  one  at  last  ?  " 
she  said  as  she  kissed  him. 

•  •  •  «  • 

But  long  after  they  were  married,  Burton,  the 
skipper  of  the  Mattie,  told  Denison  that  "  the  lady's 
yarn  "  was  all  bunkum — he  gave  the  letter  to  her 
himself. 


HOLLIES  DEBT:    A    TALE    OF 
THE   NORTH-WEST  PACIFIC 


Hollifs  Debt :     A  Tale  of  the 
North-West  Pacific 

ONE  day  a  small  Sydney-owned  brigantine  named  the 
Maid  of  Judah^  loaded  with  coconut  oil  and  sandal- 
wood  and  bound  for  China,  appeared  off  the  little 
island  of  Pingelap,  in  the  Caroline  Group.  In  those 
wild  days — from  1820  to  the  end  of  the  "'fifties" — 
the  sandal-wood  trade  was  carried  on  by  ships  whose 
crews  were  assemblages  of  the  most  utter  ruffians  in 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  the  hands  that  manned  this 
brigantine  were  no  exception.  There  may  have  been 
grades  of  villainy  among  them  ;  perhaps  if  any  one  of 
them  was  more  blood-stained  and  criminal  than  the 
others,  it  was  her  captain. 

There  being  no  anchorage  at  Pingelap,  the  captain 
sailed  in  as  close  as  he  dared,  and  then  hove-to  under 
the  lee  of  the  land,  waiting  for  the  natives  to  come 
aboard  with  some  turtle.  Presently  a  canoe  put  off 
from  the  long  curve  of  yellow  beach.  She  was  manned 
by  some  eight  or  ten  natives.  As  she  pulled  up  along- 
side, the  captain  glanced  at  the  white  man  who  was 
steering  and  his  face  paled.  He  turned  quickly  away 
and  went  below. 

•  .  •  •  . 

The  mate  of  the  sandal-wooder  shook  hands  with 

"5 


n6  Holliss  Debt: 

the  white  man  and  looked  curiously  at  him.  Only  by 
his  speech  could  he  be  recognised  as  an  Englishman. 
His  hair,  long,  rough  and  dull  brown,  fell  on  his  naked 
shoulders  like  that  of  a  native.  A  broad-brimmed  hat, 
made  from  the  plaited  leaf  of  the  pandanus  palm,  was 
his  only  article  of  European  clothing  ;  round  his  loins 
was  a  native  girdle  of  beaten  coconut  leaves.  And 
his  skin  was  as  dark  as  that  of  his  savage  native 
crew  ;  he  looked,  and  was,  a  true  Micronesian  beach- 
comber. 

"You're  under  mighty  short  canvas,  my  friend," 
said  the  mate  of  the  vessel  by  way  of  pleasantry. 

The  man  with  the  brown  skin  turned  on  him 
savagely. 

"  What  the  hell  is  that  to  you  ?  I  don't  dress  to 

please  a  pack  of convicts  and  cut-throats  !  Do 

you  want  to  buy  any  turtle  ?  that's  the  question. 
And  where's  the  captain  ?  " 

"  Captain  Matson  has  gone  below  sick,  sir,"  said 
the  steward,  coming  up  and  speaking  to  the  mate. 
"  He  says  not  to  wait  for  the  turtle  but  to  fill  away 
again." 

"  Can't,"  said  the  mate,  sharply.  "  Tell  him  there 
isn't  enough  wind.  Didn't  he  see  that  for  himself  ten 
minutes  ago  ?  What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  sir.  Only  said  he  was  took  bad 
sudden." 

With  an  oath  expressive  of  disgust  the  mate  turned 
to  the  beachcomber.  "  You've  had  your  trouble  for 
nothing,  you  see.  The  old  man  don't  want  any  turtle 

it  seems Why,  what  the  hell  is  wrong  with 

you  ?  " 

The    bearded,    savage-looking     beachcomber    was 


A  Tale  of  the  North- West  Pacific.        1 17 

leaning  against  a  backstay,  his  hands  tightly  clenched, 
and  his  eyes  fixed  in  a  wild,  insane  stare. 

He  straightened  himself  up  and  spoke  with  an  effort. 

"  Nothing.  I'm  all  right  now.  'Tis  a  fearful  hot 
day,  and  the  sun  has  giddied  me  a  bit.  I  daresay  your 
skipper  has  got  a  touch  of  the  same  thing.  But  gettin' 
the  turtle  won't  delay  you.  I  want  tobacco  badly. 
You  can  have  as  many  turtle  as  you  want  for  a  couple 
of  pounds  o'  tobacco." 

"  Right,"  said  the  mate — "  that's  dirt-cheap.  Get 
'em  aboard  as  quick  as  you  can.  Let's  have  twenty." 

The  beachcomber  laughed.  "  You  don't  know 
much  about  Pingelap  turtle  if  you  think  a  canoe 
would  hold  more  than  two  together.  We've  got  'em 
here  five  hundredweight.  You'll  have  to  send  a  boat 
if  you  want  that  many.  They're  too  heavy  to  bring 
off  in  canoes.  But  I'll  go  on  ahead  and  tell  the  people 
to  get  'em  ready  for  you." 

He  got  over  the  side  into  the  canoe,  and  was  paddled 
quickly  ashore. 

The  mate  went  below  to  tell  the  skipper.  He 
found  him  sitting  at  the  cabin  table  with  white  face 
and  shaking  limbs,  drinking  Sydney  rum. 

"That  beachcombing  cove  has  gone  ashore  ;  but 
he  says  if  you  send  a  boat  he'll  give  us  twenty  turtle 
for  some  tobacco.  We  want  some  fresh  meat  badly. 
Shall  I  lower  the  boat  ?  " 

An  instantaneous  change  came  over  the  skipper's 
features,  and  he  sighed  as  if  a  heavy  load  was  off  his 
mind. 

"  Has  he  gone,  Willis  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  we  must 
have  the  turtle.  Put  a  small  twelve-pound  case  of 
tobacco  in  the  whaleboat,  and  send  half  a  dozen 


n8  Ho! His  Debt: 

Sandwich  Island  natives  with  the  second  mate.  Tell 
Barton  to  hurry  back.  We're  in  too  close,  and  I  must 
tow  out  a  bit  when  the  boat  comes  back — and  I  say, 
Willis,  keep  that  beachcombing  fellow  on  the  main- 
deck  if  he  comes  aboard  again.  I  don't  like  his 
looks,  and  don't  want  him  down  in  the  cabin  on  any 
account." 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  second  mate  and  his  crew  followed  the  white 
man  and  a  crowd  of  natives  to  the  pond  where  the 
turtle  were  kept.  It  was  merely  a  huge  pool  in  the 
reef,  with  a  rough  wall  of  coral  slabs  built  round  it  to 
prevent  the  turtle  escaping  when  the  tides  rose  higher 
than  usual. 

"A  real  good  idea "  began  the  second  mate, 

when  there  was  a  lightning  rush  of  the  brown- 
skinned  men  upon  him  and  his  crew.  At  knocking  a 
man  down  and  tying  him  up  securely  your  Caroline 
Islander  is  unmatched,  he  does  it  so  artistically.  I 
know  this  from  experience. 

.  .  .  .  • 

"  This  is  rather  sudden,  isn't  it,  Barton  ?  "  The 
beachcomber  was  speaking  to  him,  looking  into  his 
eyes  as  he  lay  upon  the  ground.  "You  don't 
remember  my  face,  do  you  ?  Perhaps  my  back  would 
improve  your  memory.  Ah,  you  brute,  I  can  pay 
both  you  and  that  murderous  dog  of  a  Matson  back 
now.  I  knew  I  should  meet  you  both  again  some 
day." 

Across  the  sullen  features  of  the  seaman  there  flashed 
a  quick  light — the  gleam  of  a  memory.  But  his  time 
was  brief.  The  beachcomber  whispered  to  a  native. 
A  heavy  stone  was  lashed  to  the  second  mate's  chest. 


A  Tale  of  the  North-West  Pacific.        119 

Then  they  dropped  him  over  the  wall  into  the  pond. 
The  native  sailors  they  left  where  they  lay. 

And  now  ensued  a  hurried,  whispered  colloquy. 
The  story  of  that  day's  work  is  not  yet  forgotten 
among  the  old  hands  of  Ponape  and  Yap.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  by  a  cunningly  contrived  device  the 
captain  was  led  to  believe  that  the  second  mate  and 
his  men  had  deserted,  and  sent  the  chief  mate  and  six 
more  of  his  crew  to  aid  the  natives  in  recapturing 
them.  The  presence  of  numbers  of  women  and 
children  walking  unconcernedly  about  the  beach  made 
him  assured  that  no  treachery  was  intended.  The 
mate  and  his  men  were  captured  in  one  of  the 
houses,  where  they  had  been  taken  by  the  beach- 
comber for  a  drink.  They  were  seized  from  behind 
and  at  once  bound,  but  without  any  unnecessary  rough 
usage. 

"  What's  all  this  for  ? "  said  the  mate  unconcernedly 
to  the  white  man.  He  was  an  old  hand,  and  thought 
it  meant  a  heavy  ransom — or  death. 

The  beachcomber  was  standing  outside  in  the 
blazing  sun,  looking  at  the  ship.  There  were  a 
number  of  natives  on  board  selling  fish  and  young 
coconuts.  The  women  and  children  still  sauntered 
to  and  fro  on  the  beach.  He  entered  the  house  and 
answered  the  query. 

"  It  means  this  ;  no  harm  to  you  and  these  six  men 
here  if  you  lie  quiet  and  wait  till  I  send  for  you  to 
come  aboard  again.  The  other  six  Sandwich  Islanders 
are  alive  but  tied  up.  Barton  is  dead,  I  have  settled 
my  score  with  him" 

"Ah,"  said  the  mate,  after  a  brief  outburst  or 
blasphemy,  "  I  see,  you  mean  to  cut  off  the  ship." 


120  Holliss  Debt: 

"  No,  I  don't.  But  I  have  an  old  debt  to  settle 
with  the  skipper.  Keep  quiet,  or  you'll  follow  Mister 
Barton.  And  I  don't  want  to  kill  you.  I've  got 
nothing  against  you" 

Then  the  beachcomber,  with  some  twenty  natives, 
went  to  where  the  first  six  men  were  lying,  and 
carried  them  down  into  the  mate's  boat. 

"  Here's  the  second  mate's  chaps,  sir,"  said  the 
carpenter  to  Matson  ;  "  the  natives  has  'em  tied  hand 
and  foot,  like  pigs.  But  I  don't  see  Barton  among 
'em." 

"No,"  said  the  captain,  "they  wouldn't  tie  up  a 
white  man.  He'll  come  off  with  Willis  and  the  turtle. 
I  never  thought  Barton  would  bolt." 

The  ruse  succeeded  admirably.  The  boat-load  or 
natives  had  hardly  been  ten  seconds  on  deck  ere  the 
brigantine  was  captured.  Matson,  lashed  in  a  sitting 
position  to  the  quarter  railing,  saw  the  last  man  of  the 
cutting-out  party  step  on  board,  and  a  deadly  fear 
seized  him.  For  that  last  man  was  the  beachcomber. 

He  walked  aft  and  stood  over  him.  "  Come  on 
board,  Captain  Thomas  Matson,"  he  said,  mockingly 
saluting  him.  Then  he  stepped  back  and  surveyed  his 
prisoner. 

"  You  look  well,  Matson.  You  know  me  now, 
don't  you  ?  " 

The  red,  bloated  face  of  the  skipper  patched  and 
mottled,  and  his  breath  came  in  quick,  short  gasps  of 
rage  and  terror. 

"  Ah,  of  course  you  do  !  It's  only  three  years 
ago  since  that  Sunday  at  Vate  in  the  New  Hebrides, 
when  you  had  me  triced  up  and  Barton  peeled  the 


A   Tale  of  the  North-West  Pacific.        121 

hide  off  me  in  strips.  You  said  I'd  never  forget  it 
—  and  I've  come  to  tell  you  that  you  were  right.  I 
haven't.  It's  been  meat  and  drink  to  me  to  think 
that  we  might  meet  again." 

He  stopped.  His  white  teeth  glistened  beneath  the 
black-bearded  lips  in  a  low  laugh — a  laugh  that  chilled 
the  soul  of  his  listener. 

A  light  air  rippled  the  water  and  filled  the  sails,  and 
the  brigantine  moved.  The  man  went  to  the  wheel 
and  gave  it  a  turn  to  port. 

"  Yes,"  he  resumed,  casting  his  eye  aloft,  "  I'm 
delighted  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Matson.  You  will 
see  that  your  crew  are  working  the  ship  for  me.  You 
don't  mind,  do  you,  eh  ?  And  we  can  talk  a  bit,  can't 
we  ?  " 

No  answer  came. 

"None  of  the  old  hands  left,  I  see,  Matson — 
except  Barton.  Do  you  know  where  he  is  now  ? 
No  ?  He's  dead.  I  hadn't  any  particular  grudge 
against  him.  He  was  only  your  flogger.  But  I 
killed  him,  and  I'm  going  to  kill  you."  He  crossed 
his  bare,  sinewy  arms  on  the  wheel,  and  smiled  again 
at  the  bound  and  terrified  wretch. 

"  You've  had  new  bulwarks  and  spars  since,  I  see. 
Making  money  fast  now,  I  suppose.  I  hope  your 
mate  is  a  good  navigator,  Matson.  He's  going  to 
take  this  ship  to  Honolulu. 

Then  the  fear-stricken  man  found  his  tongue,  and 
a  wild,  gasping  appeal  for  mercy  broke  from  him. 

"  Don't  murder  me,  Hollis.  I've  been  a  bad  man 
all  my  life.  For  God's  sake,  let  me  off!  I  was  a 
brute  to  you.  I've  got  a  wife  and  children.  For 
Christ's  sake !  " 


122  Hollis' s  Debt: 

The  man  sprang  from  the  wheel  and  kicked  him 
savagely  in  the  mouth  with  his  bare  foot. 

"  Ha  !  you've  done  it  now.  *  For  Christ's  sake. 
For  Christ's  sake  ! '  Don't  you  remember  when  / 
used  those  words :  *  For  Christ's  sake,  sir,  hear  me  ! 
I  did  not  run  away.  I  got  lost  coming  from  the 
place  where  we  were  cutting  the  sandal-wood.' "  A 
flicker  of  foam  fell  on  his  tawny  hand.  "  You  dog, 
you  bloody-minded  fiend  !  For  three  years  I  have 
waited  ....  and  I  have  you  now." 

A  choking  groan  of  terror  came  from  Matson. 

"  Hollis  !     Spare  me  !  ....  my  children." 

The  man  had  gone  back  to  the  wheel,  calm  again. 
A  brisk  puff  was  rippling  over  the  water  from  the 
westward.  His  seaman's  eye  glanced  aloft,  and  the 
wheel  again  spun  round.  "  Ready,  about !  "  he  called. 
The  brigantine  went  and  stood  in  again — to  meet  the 
mate's  boat. 

.  .  .  .  . 

"  Come  this  way,  Mr.  Willis.  Captain  Matson  and 
I  have  been  having  a  chat  about  old  times.  You 
don't  know  me,  do  you  ?  Captain  Matson  is  a  little 
upset  just  now,  so  I'll  tell  you  who  I  am.  My  name 
is  Hollis.  I  was  one  of  the  hands  of  this  ship.  I  am 
owner  now.  Funny,  isn't  it  ?  Now,  now  ;  don't 
get  excited,  Mr.  Willis,  and  look  about  you  in  that 
way.  There  isn't  a  ghost  of  a  chance  ;  I  can  tell  you 
that.  If  you  make  one  step  towards  me,  you  and 
every  man  Jack  will  get  his  throat  cut.  And  as  soon 
as  I  have  finished  my  business  with  our  friend  here 
you'll  be  captain — and  owner,  too,  if  you  like.  By 
the  by,  what's  the  cargo  worth  ? " 

The  mate  told  him. 


A  Tale  of  the  North-West  Pacific.        123 

"  Ah,  quite  a  nice  little  sum — two  thousand  pounds. 
Now,  Mr.  Willis,  that  will  be  practically  yours.  With 
only  one  other  white  man  on  board,  you  can  take  the 
vessel  to  Honolulu  and  sell  both  her  and  the  cargo, 
and  no  questions  asked.  Hard  on  our  friend  here, 
though  ;  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Good  God,  man,  what  are  you  going  to  do  to  the 
captain — murder  him  ?  " 

"For  God's  sake,  Willis,  help  me  !  "  The  mute 
agony  in  the  skipper's  face,  more  than  the  spoken 
words,  moved  even  the  rough  and  brutal  nature  of  the 
mate,  and  he  opened  his  lips  to  speak. 

"  No  !  "  said  the  man  at  the  wheel ;  "  you  shall  not 
help  him.  Look  at  this  !  " 

He  tossed  aside  the  mantle  of  tangled  hair  that  fell 
down  his  shoulders,  and  presented  his  scarred  and 
hideous  back  to  the  mate. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,  Mr.  Willis.  Go  below  and 
pass  up  as  much  tobacco  and  trade  as  will  fill  the 
small  boat.  /  don't  want  plunder.  But  these  natives 
of  mine  do." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  goods  were  hoisted  up  and 
lowered  into  the  boat.  Then  the  two  six-pounders 
on  the  main  deck  were  run  overboard,  and  all  the 
small  arms  taken  from  the  cabin  by  the  natives. 

"  Call  your  men  aft,"  the  white  man  said  to  Willis. 
They  came  along  the  deck  and  stood  behind  him. 

"  Carry  that  man  on  to  the  main  hatch." 

Two  of  the  strongest  of  the  native  sailors  picked 
up  the  burly  figure  of  the  captain  and  laid  him  on  the 
spot  the  beachcomber  indicated  and  cut  his  bonds. 

A  dead  silence.     The  tall,  sun-baked  figure  of  the 


124  Hoi  Us' s  Debt: 

muscular  beachcomber,  naked  save  for  his  grass 
girdle,  seemed,  as  he  stood  at  the  wheel,  the  only 
animate  thing  on  board.  He  raised  his  ringer  and 
beckoned  to  a  sailor  to  come  and  steer.  Then  with 
quick  strides  he  reached  the  hatch  and  stood  in  front 
of  his  prey. 

"  Captain  Tom  Matson.  Look  at  me  well ;  and 
see  what  you  have  made  me.  Your  time  .  .  .  and 
mine  ...  at  last." 

He  extended  his  hand.  A  native  placed  in  it  the 
hilt  of  a  knife,  short,  broad-bladed,  heavy  and  keen- 
edged. 

"  Ha  !  Can't  you  speak  ?  Can't  you  say  *  for 
Christ's  sake '  ?  Don't  the  words  stick  in  your 
throat  ?  " 

The  sinewy  left  hand  darted  out  and  seized  the 
fated  man  by  the  hair,  and  then  with  a  savage  back- 
ward jerk  bent  back  his  head,  and  drew  taut  the  skin 
of  the  coarse,  thick  throat.  Then  he  raised  the 
knife  .  .  . 

He  wiped  the  knife  on  his  girdle,  and  looked  in 
silence  at  the  bubbling  arterial  stream  that  poured 
down  over  the  hatch-coamings. 

"  You  won't  forget  my  name,  will  you  ?  "  he  said  to 
the  mate.  "  Hollis  ;  Hollis,  of  Sydney  ;  they  know 
me  there  ;  the  man  that  was  flogged  at  Vate  by  him, 
there — and  left  ashore  to  die  at  Santo." 

He  glanced  down  at  the  limp,  huddled-up  mass  at 
his  feet,  got  into  the  boat,  and  with  his  naked  asso- 
ciates, paddled  ashore. 

The  breeze  had  freshened  up,  and  as  the  brigantine 
slowly  sailed  past  the  crowded  huts  of  the  native 


A  Tale  of  the  North-West  Pacific.        125 

village  a  hundred  yards  distant,  the  mate  saw  the 
beachcomber  standing  by  his  thatched  house.  He 
was  watching  the  ship. 

A  young  native  girl  came  up  to  him  with  a  wooden 
water-bowl,  and  stood  waiting.  With  his  eyes  still 
fixed  on  the  ship  he  thrust  his  reddened  hands  into 
the  water,  moved  them  slowly  to  and  fro,  then  dried 
them  on  his  girdle  of  grass. 


THE   ARM  OF  LUNO    CAPAL 


The    Arm    of    Luno    Cap  a  I 

WHEN  Kennedy,  the  new  trainer  from  the 
Marshall  Group,  came  to  Matupi,  in  New  Britain, 
and  said  he  was  willing  to  take  Colin  Murray's  trading 
station  at  Mutavat,  away  down  the  coast,  every  one 
said  he  was  mad. 

"  Don't  you  do  it,  young  fellow,"  said  Billy 
Rodman,  the  greatest  fighter  and  oldest  trader  from 
the  Solomon's  to  the  Admiralty  Group.  "  Take  my 
advice  and  don't  do  it.  Look  here,  there's  plenty  or 
places  nearer  here  than  Mutavat,  where  you  can  do 
just  as  well,  and  get  just  as  much  copra  as  you  can  in 
that  cut-throat  cannibal  shop." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  Kermody,  a  young,  fair-featured 
Irishman  of  about  five-and-twenty,  "  but  the  fact  is,  I 
want  to  go  there.  I  mean  to  have  a  slap  at  that  patch 
of  black-edged  shell  about  ten  miles  on  the  other 
side  of  Mutavat.  I've  got  six  Yap  natives  with  me — 
brought  them  from  the  Caroline  Islands — all  good 

divers,  and  all  d d  good  fighting-men  as  well.  And 

I  think  I  can  stick  it  out  there.  Levison,  of  the  brig 
Adolphe^  told  me  two  years  ago,  when  I  met  him  up  in 
the  Pelews,  that  the  shell  is  there,  right  enough,  and 
in  shallow  water,  too — whips  of  it." 

"  Of  course  it's  there,  all  of  us  here  knows  that,"  said 
10  "9 


130  The  Arm  of  Luno   Capal. 

Rattray,  the  trader  from  Ralune  ;  "  but  there  is  no  one 
of  us  fool  enough  to  go  and  live  there.  Why,  man, 
Murray  was  only  there  three  weeks  when  they 
speared  him,  and  his  three  native  boys,  and  ate 
them." 

"But  Murray's  station  was  at  Mutavat,"  said 
Kermody.  "  He  was  killed  there,  wasn't  he  ?  And 
when  I  say  I'm  going  to  Mutavat  —  I  mean 
that  I  only  intend  using  Murray's  house  as  a  living 
station  during  bad  weather.  My  idea  is  to  sail  right 
down  to  the  pkce  where  the  shell  is,  and  live  on 
that  little  island  between  the  reef  and  the  mainland." 

"  Look  here,  young  fellow.  Me  and  these  chaps 
here" — and  old  Rodman  indicated  by  a  nod  of  his 
shaggy  gray  head  the  five  other  white  men  present — 
"ain't  none  too  pleased  to  see  you  come  to  New 
Britain.  Not  that  we  doesn't  like  you — it's  not  that. 
But  there's  quite  enough  of  us  trading  about  here 
from  Blanche  Bay  to  Kabira — the  only  parts  where  a 
man's  life  is  pretty  safe.  We  chaps  came  here  before 
the  missionaries  and  before  the  Dutchmen, x  and  used 
to  do  pretty  well.  Then  what  with  the  missionaries 
and  the  big  Dutch  firm  coming  in  and  sticking  traders 
all  over  the  coast,  and  underselling  all  us  old  hands, 
with  their  cheap  and  rotten  German  rubbish,  times 
ain't  what  they  used  to  be  ;  and  we  don't  want  to  see 
any  more  new  men  coming  in  and  making  it  harder 
for  us  to  earn  a  living.  Ain't  I  right,  chaps?  " 

"In  course  yer  are,  Billy,"  said  Cockney  Smith,  a 
bleary-eyed,  gin-drinking  little  man,  dressed  in  a  suit 
of  dirty  duck.  "  By  and  by,  if  many  more  coves 

1  All  Germans,  Swede*,  Dane*,  Norwegian*,  &c.,  are  "  Dutchmen,"  to 
the  English  trader 


The  Arm  of  Luno  Capdl.  1 3 1 

come  here  on  the  trading  racket,  we'll  bloomin'  well 
have  to  go  'awkin'  our  stuff  round  to  the  natives  in 
baskets  like  bloomin'  pedlars." 

"  Well,  wait  a  minute,"  resumed  Rodman,  continu- 
ing his  remarks  to  young  Kermody ;  "as  I  was 
saying,  we  don't  want  any  more  traders  about  here.  But 
at  the  same  time,  we  don't  want  to  see  any  white  man 
go  down  to  the  place  you  want  to  go  to,  and  get  his 
throat  cut  before  he's  been  there  a  week.  When  the 
German  firm  opened  that  station  at  Mutavat  two 
years  ago,  they  asked  me  to  take  charge  of  it.  I 
wouldn't.  I  knew  what  the  natives  down  there  are. 
Two  of  the  firm's  own  men  went  down  with  a  lot  of 
New  Ireland  niggers  as  a  sort  of  bodyguard.  A 
month  afterwards,  when  the  herbrook  brig  went 
down  to  get  their  copra,  they  found  that  the  two 
Dutchmen  and  every  man  Jack  of  the  New  Ireland 
niggers  had  been  killed  and  eaten,  and  the  station 
looted.  Did  the  German  manager  tell  you  that, 
when  he  told  you  what  a  fine  house  and  station  it 
was  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Kermody  ;  "he  didn't." 

"  And  he  didn't  tell  poor  Murray,  either.  We  did, 
but  it  was  too  late  then.  He  had  signed  his  agree- 
ment, and  said  he  wouldn't  back  out,  but  take  his 
chance.  Like  yourself,  he  was  a  new  hand  here. 
He'd  just  come  from  Fiji  way  somewheres  and 
thought  that  as  he  knew  all  about  psalm-singing  Fiji 
niggers,  that  he'd  get  along  all  right  with  these  New 
Britain  beggars.  And  in  three  weeks  he  and  his 
three  native  boys  went  down  their  d d  gullets." 

For  a  minute  Kermody  hesitated.  He  was  a  coura- 
geous man,  but  not,  in  his  own  opinion,  a  foolhardy 


132  The  Arm  of  Luno  Capdl. 

one.  Levison,  a  wandering  trading  skipper,  had  given 
him  a  glowing  account  of  the  rich  patches  of  black- 
edged  pearl-shell  he  had  seen  along  the  coast  about 
Mutavat.  And  these  men  confirmed  it.  And  some- 
how Kermody  didn't  altogether  believe  that  concern 
for  him  personally  was  at  the  bottom  of  their  anxiety 
lest  he  should  go.  Perhaps  they  meant  to  have  a  slap 
at  it  themselves.  That's  what  it  was  !  So  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  go.  He  had  left  the  Carolines  to  come 
to  New  Britain  for  the  purpose  of  getting  that  shell 
and  he  meant  to  have  it.'* 

"Well,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  all,  gentle- 
men. But  I  won't  settle  down  here  to  buy  copra. 
I've  got  a  good  cutter  and  six  good  men,  and  plenty 
of  arms.  At  the  same  time,  I'll  tell  the  German 
manager  that  he  can  keep  his  blasted  station.  I  won't 
go  near  it — thanks  to  you — I'll  take  the  cutter  in 
over  the  reef  and  anchor  her  off  the  little  island. 
Levison  told  me  there  are  no  natives  living  on  it, 
and  that  they  seldom  land  on  it." 

"They'll  land  on  it  when  you  don't  expect  'em," 
said  Rodman,  grimly.  "  You  don't  know  these  niggers. 
They  ain't  the  sort  of  people  you  have  been  used  to  in 
the  Marshalls  and  Carolines.  They  are  the  lowest- 
down,  most  treacherous,  bloodthirsty  cannibals  in  the 
Pacific,  and  no  one  but  a  madman  would  go  so  far 
down  the  coast  as  you  are  going,  even  with  six  men 
well  armed.  They  are  bound  to  get  you  in  time.  If 

they  see  that  you  suspect  them,  they'll  get  d d 

sociable  with  you,  and  cut  your  throat  when  you're 
asleep.  However,  I've  had  my  say,  young  fellow,  and 
I'm  very  sorry  you  won't  take  my  advice.  When 
are  you  going  ?  " 


The  Arm  of  Luno   Capal.  133 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Going  to  take  your  wife  ?  " 

Kermody  smiled.  "Rather.  She's  as  good  as  a 
man.  Not  a  bit  scared.  Comes  from  a  good  righting 
stock.  She's  a  Pelew  Island  girl." 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  it's  no  use  talking.  But  I 
don't  think  you  should  take  her.  Let  her  stay  here 
with  my  old  woman  ;  or,  better  still,  with  Pedro's 
wife.  She's  a  young  thing,  and  will  be  glad  of  her 
company.  Besides  that,  Pedro's  wife  comes  from 
somewhere  near  the  Pelews,  don't  she,  Pedro  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  man  addressed,  a  small,  slender- 
built  Portuguese.  "  She  coma  from  Las  Matelotas  ; 
speaka  sama  languaga  as  Pelew." 

"  No,  thanks.  You're  very  kind,  but  she  wouldn't 
stay  behind,"  said  Kermody  (and,  indeed,  what  Pelew 
girl  would  leave  her  white  husband  through  fear  or 
death  or  danger  ? ),  and  with  a  kindly  nod  to  the  five 
traders  he  went  out,  walked  down  to  the  beach,  got 
into  his  boat,  and  went  off  to  the  cutter,  which  lay  at 
anchor  just  off  old  Billy  Rodman's  station. 


At  daylight  next  morning  Pedro  Unzaga  and  his 
Matelotas  wife,  standing  at  the  door  of  their  house,  saw 
the  cutter  get  under  way,  and  with  the  first  breath  of 
the  trade  wind  bellying  out  her  mainsail,  sail  slowly 
past  the  curving  palm-lined  beach  that  fringed  the 
shore  for  a  long  ten  miles. 

"  Pedro,"  said  his  wife,  laying  her  hand    on    her 
husband's   arm,   and    looking   wistfully  at    the   little 
vessel  as  she  passed,  "  she  speaketh  my  tongue.  .  . 
And  it  is  long  since  I  last  heard  it.  ...  And  it  may 


1 34  The  Arm  of  Luno  Capdl. 

be  that  she  will  never  come  back.  .  .  .  And  she  is 
but  a  child." 


For  two  days  the  cutter  sailed  westward,  and 
Kermody — as  he  steered  her  past  the  long,  long 
stretches  of  white,  sandy  beach,  and  saw  the  groves  of 
stately  palms  and  rich  verdure  of  the  hills  in  the  back- 
ground, and  the  flash  and  gleam  of  many  a  mountain 
torrent  far  inland — called  to  his  young  wife  to  come 
and  sit  beside  him. 

"  'Tis  a  fair  green  land,"  said  he,  as  she  came  to  his 
call,  and  sitting  beside  him  leant  her  cheek  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  looked  dreamily  across  to  the  shore. 

"Aye,  Kermotee,"  she  answered,  in  her  native 
tongue.  "  A  fair  green  land  ;  but  yet  not  so  green  to 
my  eyes  as  Uruloong,  the  land  of  my  father.  And 
Seta,  the  wife  of  Pedro,  sayeth  that  the  men  who 
dwell  here  are  eaters  of  men's  flesh.  And  they  are 
black  and  ugly  to  look  upon.  Kermotee,"  and  she 
lifted  her  eyes,  soft,  black,  and  lustrous,  to  his  face, 
"let  us  not  live  here  in  this  evil  land  always." 

"  But  for  six  months,  my  bird,"  said  Kermody, 
stroking  her  glossy  hair — "  only  for  six  months,  till  we 
have  filled  the  cutter  with  this  pearl-shell,  and  I  have 
a  string  of  pearls  for  that  white  throat  of  thine.  Then 
will  we  be  rich,  and  sail  to  Singapore.  There  will  I 
sell  the  pearl-shell,  and  then  shall  we  return  to 
Uruloong  and  live." 

A  soft,  tender  smile  flitted  across  her  pale  face,  and 
Kermody,  taking  her  hand  in  his,  pulled  up  the  loose 
sleeve  of  her  blouse  to  the  shoulders  and  looked  at  the 
thin  spiral  lines  of  blue  tattoo  that  ran  in  graceful 
curves  from  her  shoulder  down  to  her  slender  wrist. 


The  Arm  of  Luno  CapaL  135 

"Thou  art  for  ever  looking  at  my  arm,"  she 
laughed,  in  her  sweet,  low  voice  ;  "  is  not  the  marking 
to  thy  liking,  my  husband  ?  " 

"  Nay,  not  that,  Luno-Capal.  But  I  wonder  that 
thou,  child  of  a  white  father,  should  so  follow  the 
fashion  of  thy  country." 

"  I  was  but  a  little  child  when  my  white  father 
died.  And  my  mother's  people  desired  me  to  be  as 
any  other  girl  of  Uruloong.  So  I  was  tattooed  as 
thou  seest,  but  only  on  mine  arms." 

Kermody  smiled.  She  was  but  a  child  even  now  ; 
and  as  he  looked  at  her  fair  young  face  and  graceful, 
delicate  figure,  and  thought  of  the  rough  life  he  was 
bringing  her  to  on  this  shelling  trip,  his  conscience 
smote  him  for  not  having  left  her  with  the  wife  of 
Pedro  the  Portuguese  till  he  returned. 

"  Kermotee,"  she  said,  presently,  toying  with  his 
hand,  "  would  it  please  thee  better  if  my  arms  were  as 
the  arms  of  a  woman  of  thy  own  land  ?  " 

"No,"  he  answered,  pinching  her  chin  playfully. 
"Thy  arms  are  to  my  liking.  Yet  us  white  men 
like  not  the  fashion  of  tattooing.  Still  to  me  it 
matters  nothing." 

"And  thou  would'st  know  my  arm  from  that  of 
any  other,  even  were  the  tattoo  marks  like  these  ?  " 
she  said,  with  childish  vanity — "  even  if  my  face  were 
hidden  from  thee  ?  " 

"  Even  as  I  would  know  thy  eyes  among  the  eyes 
often  thousand,  though  the  rest  of  thy  face  were  hidden 
from  me,"  he  answered,  drawing  her  to  him. 

A  month  had  passed,  and  then  one  day,  when  the 
trade  wind  blew  strong,  and  the  lines  of  palms  along 


136  The  Arm  of  Luno   Capdl. 

the  beaches  swayed  and  bent  their  plumed  crowns, 
and  the  sea  was  white-horsed  away  to  the  horizon,  the 
cutter  came  in  sight  again,  and  dropped  her  anchor 
within  a  mile  of  Pedro's  house. 

w  How  are  you  ?  "  said  Kermody,  as,  half  an  hour 
later,  he  jumped  out  of  his  boat,  and  met  the  Portuguese 
on  the  beach.  "  I've  had  grand  luck  ;  got  two  tons 
of  shell  in  the  first  week,  and  am  getting  more  every 
day.  But  Luno  Capal  is  a  bit  sick." 

"  Gotta  th'  fev'  ?  "  suggested  Pedro. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  it's  fever,  Pedro.  I  think  she's 
fretting  a  bit  ever  since  she  saw  your  wife.  You  see 
I'm  away  in  the  boat  all  day,  and  she's  left  on  the 
little  island  by  herself.  And  I've  come  up  to  ask  you 
to  let  your  wife  come  with  me,  and  keep  her  company 
for  a  week  or  two.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pedro,  who  was  a  good-natured  fellow, 
and  who  felt  reassured  now  that  Kermody  had  returned 
safely,  "  I'll  let  her  go  wis  you.  She  what  you  call 
4  fretta '  too  for  your  wife.  All  daya  long  she  talk 
about  her,  and  aska  question  about  when  she  come 
back." 

Then  Kermody  asked  Pedro  to  come  as  well,  and 
after  some  little  hesitation  he  consented.  He  did  not 
like  leaving  his  station  without  any  one  to  take  care  of 
it,  but  at  the  same  time  was  anxious  to  see  Kermody's 
pearling  ground.  In  a  few  minutes  they  were  at  his 
house,  and  his  pretty  little  Matelotas  wife  clapped  her 
hands  with  joy  when  she  heard  the  reason  of  Kermody's 
visit.  In  two  hours  they  were  all  on  board,  and  the 
cutter  was  lying  over  to  the  breeze,  with  the  water 
swirling  and  slopping  over  her  lee  rail.  Only  two  of 
Kermody's  crew  were  on  board,  the  other  four  having 


The  Arm  of  Luno   Capdl.  137 

been  left  with  his  wife  on  the  island,  with  strict 
instructions  to  keep  a  good  watch  for  any  native 
canoes. 

"But  I  don't  think  there's  the  slightest  danger," 
said  Kermody  to  Pedro,  as  they  sat  smoking  in  the 
cabin,  and  listening  to  the  rush  and  seeth  of  the  water 
as  the  little  cutter  swept  through  the  night.  "We 
haven't  seen  a  native  yet,  although  we've  seen  any 
amount  of  fires  on  the  mainland  ;  and  Levison  told 
me  there  was  a  big  town  of  two  thousand  natives 
about  ten  miles  away  from  the  little  island." 

Yes  ;  Pedro  knew  that  the  town  was  inhabited  by 
a  branch  of  the  Mutavat  tribe — the  Narra.  When 
the  Mutavat  people  killed  the  two  Dutchmen  and 
Murray,  they  had  sent  portions  of  their  bodies  over  to 
the  big  town  mentioned  by  Levison.  And  when  the 
Narra  people  had  a  cannibal  feast  they  "  always  sent 
a  limb  over  to  the  Mutavat  crowd.'* 

"  What  infernal  brutes  ! "  said  Kermody.  "  I 
wouldn't  live  in  such  a  cursed  country  for  a  fortune. 
However,  I'm  pretty  safe  where  I  am  now,  and  mean 
to  stay  on  the  island  till  I  fill  the  cutter  with  pearl 
shell.  I  may  come  back  again,  Pedro,  with  a  bigger 
crowd  of  men  next  year — that  is  if  my  little  woman 
doesn't  buck.  I  promised  her  a  month  ago  that  I 
would  not  stay  here  over  six  months.  But,  by  Jove, 
Pedro,  there's  a  dozen  fortunes  lying  around  here. 
And  .  .  .  well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I'm  only  telling 
her  a  lie.  I  do  mean  to  come  back  here,  and  I  know 
she  won't  let  me  come  alone." 

Pedro  nodded,  and  wishing  Kermody  good-night,  he 
turned  in. 


138  The  Arm  of  Luno  Capdl. 

The  breeze  fell  during  the  night,  and  at  daylight 
the  cutter  was  slipping  along  over  a  smooth  sea,  with 
a  clear  blue  sky  overhead.  The  little  island  was  still 
ten  miles  away,  and  just  as  the  sun  rose,  Kermody 
could  see  the  faint,  dim  outlines  of  its  palm-covered 
shore  pencilled  against  the  horizon. 

"  Hallo,"  said  Pedro,  "  I  see  a  canoe  right  ahead." 

CCI  see  that  canoe  just  a  couple  of  minutes  ago," 
said  Harry,  a  native  of  Yap,  who  acted  as  Kennedy's 
mate.  "  She  was  coming  this  way,  then  she  slewed 
round  and  made  back." 

"We'll  soon  overhaul  them,  anyway,**  said  Ker- 
mody to  Pedro.  "  But,  by  the  Lord,  they  art 
paddling  !  " 

Pedro  had  his  dark,  deep-set  eyes  fixed  steadily  on 
the  canoe,  which  contained  four  men.  Then  he 
turned  to  Kennedy  with  an  uneasy  look  upon  his 
face. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  *'  asked  Kermody. 

Pedro  shook  his  head  solemnly,  and  said  he  thought 
it  was  very  curious  that  they  should  meet  this  canoe. 
She  seemed  to  have  been  coming  from  the  island 
towards  Mutavat,  which  was  now  astern  of  them. 
But  now  she  had  turned  back,  and  was  making  for 
the  mainland. 

"  We'll  soon  see  what  the  devil  they're  in  such  a 
hurry  about,"  said  Kermody,  and  he  altered  the 
cutter's  course  a  point  or  two,  so  as  to  intercept  the 
canoe.  At  the  same  moment  Pedro  came  up  from 
below  with  his  rifle,  which  he  laid  down  on  the  deck. 

In  twenty  minutes  more  the  cutter  was  within 
three  hundred  yards  of  the  canoe,  and  Pedro  taking  up 
his  rifle,  sent  a  shot  through  her.  The  four  natives, 


The  Arm  of  Luno  Capal.  139 

who  had  been  paddling  as  if  for  their  lives,  at  once 
jumped  overboard  and  dived  towards  the  shore. 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for  ? "  said  Kermody, 
angrily,  to  Pedro. 

"  Look  at  that,"  answered  the  Portuguese,  pointing 
to  the  canoe. 

Kermody  could  see  nothing  but  the  empty  canoe 
floating  about.  Amidships,  and  suspended  between 
two  slender  upright  sticks,  was  a  basket  of  coconut 
leaf,  which  swayed  to  and  fro  with  the  motion  of  the 
sea. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  asked  Kermody,  impatiently.  He 
was  angry  at  Pedro's  wanton  shot. 

The  Portuguese  took  the  tiller  from  him,  and  let 
the  cutter  run  up  alongside  the  rocking  canoe.  As 
she  swept  by  he  let  go  the  tiller,  and  reaching  out  his 
hand  caught  the  basket  from  between  the  sticks  and 
dropped  it  down  upon  the  deck. 

Kermody  picked  it  up,  and  cutting  the  lashing  of 
cinnet  that  secured  the  sides,  turned  it  upside  down 
upon  the  skylight. 

"It's  not  very  heavy,  Pedro,  anyway.  .  .  .  Oh, 
my  God !  .  .  ." 

It  was  the  arm  of  Luno  Capal. 


IN  A  SAMOAN  PILLAGE 


In  a  Samoan    Pillage 

SIXTY  years  ago,  when  not  a  score  of  white  men  lived 
in  Samoa,  and  when,  as  now,  the  greatest  chief  in  the 
country  bore  the  name  of  Malietoa,  there  ruled  over 
the  district  of  Lefanga,  in  the  western  end  of  Upolu, 
a  chief  of  singular  courage  and  most  undaunted  resolu- 
tion. His  name  was  Tuisila  ;  and  although  scarcely 
past  his  youth,  he  had  already  distinguished  himself  in 
battle  on  many  occasions.  Like  the  valorous  but 
ferocious  Finau  of  Tonga,  with  whom  he  was  con- 
temporary, and  whose  name  first  became  known  to 
English  people  by  his  cutting  off  of  the  London 
privateer,  Port-au-Prince^  in  1805,  the  young  Samoan 
chief  had  associated  with  him  in  his  warlike  enterprises 
some  few  white  men,  whom  misfortune  or  their  own 
crimes  had  led  to  their  abandonment  of  all  civilised 
ties  and  associations.  In  the  case  of  Finau,  a  young 
English  seaman  named  William  Mariner,  who  was  one 
of  the  survivors  of  the  Port-au-Prince  massacre,  pre- 
served in  his  journal  of  his  four  years'  residence  in 
Tonga,  a  record  of  the  names  of  many  of  the  white 
mercenaries  who  aided  Finau  to  subjugate  his 
enemies.  Most  of  these  men,  like  Mariner  himself, 
had  been  spared  from  the  general  slaughter  of  the 
privateer's  crew  by  the  astute  Finau  in  order  that  they 

143 


144  In  a  Samoan  Village. 

might  instruct  his  people  how  to  use  the  cannon 
which  belonged  to  the  armament  of  the  captured  ship. 
And  so  readily  did  the  adventurous  privateersmen  enter 
into  his  wishes  that  in  a  very  short  time  Finau  was 
able  to  subdue  all  those  who  contested  his  authority, 
ior  his  white  artillerymen  soon  destroyed  forts  hitherto 
considered  impregnable  to  attacks  conducted  in  the 
ordinary  Tongan  method.  While,  however,  there 
were  in  the  service  of  the  chief  Finau  about  sixteen 
Englishmen,  the  Samoan  chief  Tuisila  had  but  three, 
and  at  the  time  of  this  story  he  was  lamenting  the 
death  of  one  of  these,  who,  a  few  days  before,  had 
been  mortally  wounded  in  an  encounter  with  a  foray 
party  from  another  district,  and  whose  body  had  just 
been  buried  by  his  two  comrades,  assisted  by  the 
natives. 

.  •  •  •  • 

One  evening,  a  few  days  after  this  man's  death, 
Tuisila,  to  show  the  respect  in  which  he  held  his  white 
friends,  assembled  the  people  in  front  of  his  house  and 
ordered  a  "  lagisolo,"  or  funeral  dirge,  to  be  sung  in 
honour  of  the  memory  of  the  dead  white  man,  and 
sent  a  message  to  his  surviving  comrades  to  honour  the 
ceremony  by  their  presence. 

Living  somewhat  apart  from  the  other  houses  of  the 
village,  some  little  time  passed  ere  they  presented 
themselves  to  Tuisila,  who,  receiving  them  with  that 
dignified  courtesy  which  is  innate  in  all  Samoans  of 
whatever  rank,  bade  them  be  seated  beside  him  in  the 
place  of  honour.  Then,  at  a  signal  from  the  chief, 
the  opening  solo  was  begun  by  an  aged  woman,  and 
the  two  white  men,  rough  and  stern  as  were  their 
natures,  could  not  be  but  affected  somewhat  as  the 


In  a  Samoan  Village.  145 

plaintive,  wailing  notes  that  recounted  their  comrade's 
achievements  resounded  through  the  quiet  evening  air. 
The  scene  of  the  ceremony  was  a  small  fortified 
village  situated  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tofua,  and  look- 
ing seaward  over  the  wide,  blue  expanse  of  Falelatai 
Bay. 

The  trade  wind  was  slowly  fading  away,  and  the 
dense  fringe  of  cocos  that  studded  the  beach  of  the 
verdant  littoral  between  the  mountain  village  and  the 
shores  of  the  bay  scarce  moved  their  drooping  leaves 
to  its  dying  breaths.  Far  up,  towards  the  summit  of 
Tofua,  the  purpling  shades  of  the  setting  sun  were 
giving  way  to  the  night  mantle  of  soft,  white  cloud 
that  crept  up  and  around  its  deeply-verdured  sides  and 
bold,  outspreading  spurs. 

For  some  minutes  the  men  sat  smoking  in  silence 
and  gazing  at  the  foaming  curves  of  the  barrier  reef 
encompassing  the  bay  of  Falelatai,  and  apparently 
taking  but  little  heed  of  what  was  going  on  around 
them.  Presently,  however,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
dirge,  they  heard  the  full,  manly  tones  of  the  young 
chief  directing  some  young  women  to  prepare  a  bowl 
of  kava.  The  sound  of  his  voice  aroused  them  from 
their  thoughts,  and  brought  them  back  to  their  wild 
surroundings. 

"  Bill,"  said  the  elder,  a  grey-bearded,  muscular  man 
of  fifty,  "I  wonder  if  you  an'  me  is  going  to  get 
finished  off  like  poor  Tommy  Lane  ?  Or  is  you  an* 
me  goin'  to  spend  all  our  lives  here  among  a  race  o' 
savages,  livin'  like  'em,  thinkin'  like  'em,  and  dyin* 
like  'em  ? " 

The  younger  man,  who  was  known  to  the  natives 
as  Tuifau("the  blacksmith,"  or  "ironworker")  for 

ii 


146  In  a  Samoan  Village. 

some  minutes  made  no  answer.  Unlike  his  com- 
panion— who  was  evidently  but  a  rude,  uncultured 
seaman — his  countenance,  tanned  and  roughened  as  it 
was  by  his  wild  and  adventurous  life,  showed  not  only 
intelligence  but  a  degree  of  refinement  that  would  not 
be  looked  for  in  one  whose  conditions  of  existence 
were  so  degrading.  Both  men  were  dressed  like 
natives,  naked  to  the  waist,  and  save  where  their 
girdles  of  ti  leaves  protected  their  skins,  their  tattooed 
bodies  and  limbs  were  darkened  as  deeply  by  the  rays 
of  a  tropic  sun  as  were  those  of  their  native  associates. 
At  last  "Bill"  spoke,  but  with  such  a  strange  bitter- 
ness in  his  voice  that  his  comrade  stared  at  him  in 
wonder. 

"  Aye,  Dick,  as  you  say  ;  are  we  indeed  to  end  our 
days  here  among  these  people,  or  meet  the  fate  of  poor 
Tom  ?  Think  of  it,  man.  Let  us  look  things  in  the 
face.  What  are  we  in  our  own  minds  ?  What  would 
any  of  your  or  my  countrymen  think  of  us  but  that 
we  are  a  pair  of  shameless,  degraded  beings,  unfit  to 
associate  with  ;  sunk  too  low  to  even  think  of  return- 
ing to  civilisation  again  ? " 

The  elder  man  moved  uneasily,  and  then  glanced 
somewhat  curiously  at  the  other. 

"That's  comin'  it  rather  strong,  Bill.  We  ain't 
no  worse  than  any  other  papalagi  tafea x  in  Samoa. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  as  I'd  like  to  go  aboard  ship  like 
this  " — and  he  touched  his  naked  body  and  pointed  to 
his  tattooed  legs — "  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  ain't  my 
fault,  and  it  ain't  yourn.  I  runned  away  from  my 
ship  twenty  years  ago,  because  she  was  a  floatin'  hell. 
Perhaps,  if  I  could  ha'  got  away  again  from  here  in  a 

1  Beachcomber*. 


In  a  Samoan  Tillage.  147 

year  or  so,  I  would  ha'  gone.  But  I  took  to  the 
native  live,  and  the  life  took  to  me.  An*  I  says  I've 
had  a  better  time  among  these  here  people  than  I 
would  ha'  had  at  sea.  What's  the  use  o'  gettin'  hell 
knocked  out  o'  you  all  your  life  at  sea  and  dyin'  in  the 
poor-house  in  the  end  ?  O'  course,  wi*  you  it's 
different.  You  is  on'y  a  young  man,  an'  has  a 
eddication.  I'm  on'y  a  old  shell-back  as  doesn't  care 
a  dam'  'bout  anything.  But  now  as  you've  started 
talkin'  'bout  these  things,  I  does  own  I've  sometimes 
had  a  kind  of  a  wision  like  of  bein'  in  London  again, 
and  sittin'  down  in  front  o'  a  frothin'  mug  o'  stout. 
God  alive,  just  think  of  it ! " 

A  slight  smile  flickered  across  the  younger  man's  lips. 
Then  he  asked,  "  Isn't  there  anybody  you'd  like  to  see 
again  in  the  old  country,  Dick  ?  " 

The  grizzled  old  beachcomber  shook  his  head. 
u  No — leastways,  not  as  I  knows  of.  I  s'pose  every  one 
thinks  I'm  dead.  I  say,  Bill,  what  made  you  take  to 
this  kind  of  life  ?  " 

"  Bill,"  otherwise  William  Trenchard,  once  a  petty 
officer  on  the  American  frigate  Huron^  clenched  his 
browned  hands  and  stared  moodily  before  him.  Then 
he  said  slowly,  "  Because,  like  yourself,  I  was  tired  of 
a  life  at  sea.  And  because  one  day  three  years  ago 
I  was  taken  by  the  pretty  face  of  a  native  girl — I 
deserted  from  the  Huron  at  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and 
came  here  in  an  American  whaler." 

"  Well,  ain't  you  satisfied  ?  Doesn't  you  and  me 
live  like  fightin'-cocks  ?  Tell  yer  what  it  is,  Bill — 
this  here  cove,  Tuisila,  thinks  a  hell  of  a  lot  o'  us. 
An'  jest  you  remember  this — he's  going  to  be  king  o' 
Samoa  before  long.  You  see,  you've  on'y  been  here 


148  In  a  Samoan  Village. 

two  years.  I've  been  here  twenty,  an'  I  knows  what's 
goin'  on.  Malietoa  would  lilce  to  see  Tuisila  dead — 
he's  afeerd  he's  gettin'  too  powerful." 

"  Well,  even  so,  what  good  will  that  do  us  ?  " 

"  Lots !  Why,  you  an'  me  will  be  two  of  the 
biggest  men  in  the  country.  Your  wife  is  a  sort  o' 
adopted  sister  to  Tuisila,  an'  if  he  wipes  out  Malietoa, 
you'll  be  the  second  man  in  the  country." 

Trenchard  rose  to  his  feet  and  laughed  bitterly. 
'  Yes,  and  even  then  only  a  disgrace  to  my  own." 

He  was  about  to  wallc  away  when  he  remembered 
that  he  would  be  expected  to  remain  and  drink  a  bowl 
of  kava  with  his  native  master,  and  so  resumed  his 
seat  upon  his  mat  again  in  sullen  silence. 

Among  the  many  hundreds  of  women  and  girls 
who  were  seated  around  were  his  wife  Malama  and  her 
infant  child.  Scarcely  out  of  her  girlhood,  she 
possessed  to  a  very  great  degree  all  that  beauty  of  face 
and  figure  and  vivacity  of  expression  that  are  met  with 
in  the  Malay  o- Polynesian  races  of  the  Pacific  Islands, 
and  a  smile  lit  up  her  features  as  she  heard  her 
husband's  name  called  out  next  to  that  of  her  adopted 
brother,  the  chief,  as  the  bowl  of  kava  was  presented 
to  him  to  drink. 

Hitherto  the  name  of  the  older  of  the  two  men  had, 
by  reason  of  his  long  services  and  valorous  conduct, 
been  held  in  such  esteem  by  Tuisila — and  his  father 
before  him — that  at  all  ceremonious  kava-drinkings  it 
had  always  been  called  out  immediately  after  that  of 
the  chief  himself. 

So  as  the  stalwart  young  native  who  officiated  as 
cup-bearer  presented  the  bowl  to  Trenchard  with  a 


In  a  Samoan  Village.  149 

respectful  obeisance,  the  younger  white  man  waived 
it  aside,  and  nodded  his  head  towards  old  Richard 
Mayne. 

"That's  all  right,  Bill,"  said  the  old  beachcomber, 
without  the  slightest  trace  of  bitterness  in  his  voice, 
and,  of  course,  speaking  in  English,  "  I  ain't  put  out 
a  bit.  You're  goin'  to  be  the  big  man  here  now,  an* 
I  ain't  fool  enough  to  get  mad  over  what's  werry 
natural.  You  has  a  eddication,  an'  these  natives 
knows  it.  Drink  it,  man,  an'  good  luck  to  us  both." 

Trenchard,  however,  turning  to  the  chief,  who  sat 
looking  at  him  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  still  declined 
the  honour,  and  it  was  not  until  the  chief's  orator,  or 
"  talking  man,"  who  sat  behind  him,  rose,  and  leaning 
on  his  staff,  said  that  it  was  not  only  the  wish  of 
Tuisila,  but  of  the  older  white  man  himself,  that 
Trenchard  yielded  and  drank. 

For  some  minutes  or  so  the  ceremony  continued, 
the  kava  bowl  being  passed  round  to  the  various  sub- 
chiefs  in  order  of  rank,  and  then  Tuisila  whispered  to 
his  orator,  who,  again  rising,  addressed  the  assemblage. 
His  speech  was  brief,  but  the  excited  looks  and  expres- 
sions of  pleasure  that  immediately  followed  showed  its 
importance — a  messenger  had  that  morning  arrived 
from  Apia  with  the  news  that  an  American  man-of-war 
had  dropped  anchor  in  the  harbour,  and  that  her 
captain,  desiring  to  meet  Tuisila  and  the  chiefs  of  his 
district,  wished  them  to  visit  his  ship.  His  reason  for 
making  the  request  was  that,  learning  of  the  disturbed 
state  of  the  island,  and  the  bloody  encounters  that  had 
occurred  between  Malietoa  and  his  tributary  chiefs,  he 
wished  to  effect  a  reconciliation. 

For  a  moment  or  two  no  one  spoke,  and  then  Tuisila 


150  In  a  Samoan  Village. 

asked  the  white  men  to  tell  the  assembled  people  their 
opinion  of  the  naval  officer's  request ;  would  it  be  safe 
for  him  to  accede,  or  did  they  think  that  the  captain 
was  acting  in  collusion  with  Malietoa  and  intended  to 
make  him  (Tuisila)  a  prisoner? 

Trenchard  at  once  expressed  the  opinion  that  the 
man-of-war  captain's  request  concealed  no  evil  inten- 
tion, and  urged  the  chief  to  comply.  He  pointed  out 
to  him  the  probability  of  Malietoa  having  already  seen 
the  captain,  and,  through  his  white  interpreters,  sought 
to  gain  his  armed  aid  in  bringing  his  rebellious  chiefs 
to  submission  ;  and  that  the  naval  officer  no  doubt 
wished  to  hear  both  sides,  and  then  endeavour  to  recon- 
cile them  to  one  another. 

Placing  as  he  did  the  greatest  faith  in  his  two  white 
men,  the  chief  at  once  announced  his  intention  or 
setting  out  on  the  following  day,  and  preparations 
were  at  once  begun  to  make  the  journey  in  three  or 
four  large  taumua/ua,  or  native  boats. 


It  now  became  necessary  for  Trenchard  to  tell  the 
chief  that  he  could  not  accompany  him.  He  gave  his 
excuse  that  he  had  no  desire  to  ever  again  come  in 
contact  with  white  men  while  in  his  present  condition. 
The  mere  absence  of  clothing,  he  said,  would  subject 
him  to  insult  and  place  him  in  an  ignominious  position. 
The  only  garments  he  had  were  in  such  a  ragged  state 
that  he  could  not  possibly  venture  to  clothe  himself  in 
them ;  therefore  he  begged  the  chief  to  permit  him 
and  his  comrade,  who  was  in  precisely  the  same  situa- 
tion, to  remain  behind,  or  at  least  to  only  accompany 
the  expedition  to  within  a  certain  distance  of  Apia 


In  a  Samoan  Village.  151 

Harbour.  To  this  suggestion  Tuisila  reluclantly 
assented. 

Unaware  of  the  real  reason  of  Trenchard's  objections 
to  visit  the  man-of-v/ar  (for  the  chief  did  not  know 
that  he  was  a  deserter),  Tuisila  expressed  the  most 
lively  sympathy,  and  stated  that  he  would  endeavour 
to  get  them  some  clothing  from  the  two  or  three 
white  men  who  lived  under  the  protection  of  Malietoa, 
so  that  the  next  time  that  a  ship  touched  at  the  island 
they  should  not  be  debarred  from  visiting  her  and 
hearing  the  sound  of  their  country's  tongue  again. 

At  dawn  the  boats  left  the  village,  and  Mayne  and 
Trenchard,  who  were  in  the  same  boat  as  the  valorous 
young  chief,  could  not  but  see  that  he  was  visibly 
depressed  at  their  not  being  able  to  accompany  him 
on  board  the  man-of-war  and  assist  in  any  negotiations 
that  might  take  place.  Trenchard  was  accompanied 
by  his  wife,  and  his  comrade  Mayne  by  one  daughter. 
Malama,  as  was  natural  enough,  looked  forward  with 
pleasure  to  the  prospect  of  visiting  a  man-of-war,  for 
in  those  days  whole  years  passed  without  a  ship  touching 
at  the  group,  which  was  but  little  known  to  navigators, 
and  the  sight  of  white  strangers  was  a  rare  event. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  chief's  flotilla  ran  into 
Vaitele  Bay,  on  the  western  side  of  the  point  of 
Mulinu'u,  some  three  miles  from  Apia  Harbour,  and 
Trenchard  could  see  through  the  serried  lines  of  cocos 
the  lofty  spars  of  a  large  frigate  that  lay  at  anchor  off 
Matautu  Point.  At  the  place  where  they  landed 
Tuisila  was  met  by  messengers  from  King  Malietoa. 
They  brought  him  the  customary  presents  from  their 
master,  and  expressed  the  king's  hope  that  their 
meeting  would  result  in  bringing  their  disastrous 


152  In  a  Samoan  Village. 

quarrel  to  an  end.  A  bowl  of  kava  was  at  once 
prepared  in  one  of  the  houses  and  partaken  of  by 
Tuisila's  party  and  the  messengers  from  Malietoa, 
and  then  the  two  white  men  saw  him,  accompanied 
by  Malama  and  Mayne's  daughter,  step  into  the  boats 
again  and  paddle  away  towards  the  ship. 

For  nearly  two  hours  Trenchard  and  his  companion 
lay  in  the  house  awaiting  Tuisila's  return,  and  then, 
becoming  wearied,  they  set  out  for  a  walk  towards  a 
village  a  mile  or  so  away,  where  lived  people  who 
were  related  to  Mayne's  wife.  Both  men  were 
possessed  of  muskets,  but,  feeling  perfectly  sure  of  the 
good  intentions  of  Malietoa's  people,  they  had  had  no 
hesitation  in  leaving  their  arms  in  the  care  of  the 
people  of  the  house  they  had  just  left. 

As  soon  as  Tuisila  reached  the  ship  he  at  once, 
without  the  slightest  hesitation,  ascended  to  the  deck, 
where  he  was  met  by  the  captain  and  his  officers,  who 
received  him  most  hospitably,  for  they  were  struck 
with  his  dignified  and  imposing  bearing.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  deck  were  a  group  of  natives,  and 
among  them  the  young  chief  recognised  the  stately 
figure  of  his  foe,  the  King  Malietoa,  who  quickly 
advanced  towards  him  and  greeted  him  in  a  friendly 
manner. 

With  the  king  was  a  white  man  named  Collis,  who 
acted  as  interpreter,  and  who  was  now  desired  by 
the  American  captain  to  ask  the  two  chiefs  to  come 
below  into  his  cabin  and  have  a  friendly  conference. 
To  this  both  Malietoa  and  Tuisila  immediately  con- 
sented, and  they  were  about  to  follow  the  interpreter 
when  the  latter  caught  sight  of  the  figure  of  the 


In  a  Samoan  Village.  153 

graceful  Malama,  who  was  standing  on  the  main  deck 
with  old  Mayne's  half-caste  daughter.  Both  the 
young  women  seemed  lost  in  timid  wonder  at  the 
strangeness  of  their  surroundings,  and  Collis,  knowing 
them  both  by  repute,  called  to  them  to  go  on  to  the 
quarter-deck,  where  they  would  feel  more  private. 

Holding  each  other  by  the  hand  like  two  children, 
they  walked  shyly  along  the  deck,  till  Tuisila,  just  as 
he  was  about  to  descend  to  the  cabin,  addressing 
Malama  and  her  friend,  told  them  not  to  be  fright- 
ened— there  was  no  one  on  the  ship  who  would  seek 
to  do  them  harm. 

"  Nay,"  answered  Malama,  with  a  smile,  "  we  are 
not  now  afraid  ;  but  yet  did  I  desire  to  stay  a  little 
while  on  the  lower  deck  among  the  auvaa  (the 
common  sailors),  and  then  would  I  have  liked  thee, 
Kolli  (Collis),  to  ask  some  of  them  to  sell  me  some 
clothes  for  my  husband.  See,"  and  she  pointed  to  a 
bundle  that  lay  upon  the  deck,  "behold  this  roll  of 
fine  mats  and  new  tappa  cloth.  These  have  I  brought 
to  exchange  with  the  sailors  for  some  of  their  clothing, 
so  that  my  husband,  who  hath  none,  can  sometimes 
dress  himself  as  becomes  a  white  man." 

The  eager,  earnest  manner  in  which  the  young 
woman  spoke  and  her  engaging  and  modest  appear- 
ance at  once  attracted  Captain  Wilkes,  who,  with 
some  of  the  officers  of  the  Vincennes^  was  standing 
near,  and  he  asked  Collis  pleasantly  what  it  was  that 
she  wanted. 

Collis,  a  good-natured  but  careless  and  thoughtless 
man,  laughed  as  he  answered — 

"She  wants  to  barter  some  native  mats,  sir,  for 
clothes  for  her  husband,  who  is  a  white  man." 


154  In  a  Samoa n  Village. 

"  Indeed  ;  where  is  he  ;  is  he  on  board  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  He's  like  a  good  many  of  us  here — he's 
got  no  clothes.  He  lives  with  this  chief  Tuisila,  and 
this  girl,  who  is  Tuisila's  half-sister,  tells  me  that  her 
husband  and  another  white  man  are  ashore  here  at  a 
village  quite  close  to.  They  are  waiting  there  till 
these  young  women  come  back  and  bring  them  some 
clothes,  I  expect." 

"Ha,"  said  Captain  Wilkes,  quickly,  "are  these 
two  of  the  men  that  Malietoa  tells  me  are  allies  of 
his  enemies  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  old  Mayne  and  Trenchard  are  both 
righting  for  the  Lafanga  people.*' 

"I  understand.  Now,  Collis,  I  would  like  to  see 
these  men,  and  mean  to  see  them.  Tell  the  young 
woman  that  I  will  give  her  some  clothing  to  take 
ashore  to  her  husband.  Mr.  Wallis,  pass  the  word 
for  my  steward  to  come  to  me,  and  then  will  you 
please  get  ready  to  go  ashore  with  these  young  women. 
They  will  take  you  to  a  village  where  two  white  men 
are  staying.  Give  these  men  the  clothes  that  my 
steward  will  give  you,  and  then  bring  them  back  with 
you  to  the  ship.  They  may  not  want  to  come  ;  but 
if  they  object,  bring  them  by  force.  One,  I  am  told, 
is  an  Englishman,  the  other  an  American.  I  wish  to 
see  them  both,  and  especially  the  latter,  as  I  have  no 
doubt  he  is  a  man  of  whom  I  have  a  written  descrip- 
tion. But,  any  way,  they  are  a  pair  of  scoundrels,  so 
don't  be  too  delicate  with  them.  I  shall  endeavour  to 
keep  the  chief  here  till  you  return." 

Trenchard  and  Mayne,  after  walking  about  a  mile, 
reached  the  village  where  the  friends  of  the  latter's 


In  a  Samoan  Village.  155 

wife  lived.  They  had  been  made  very  welcome  in 
true  Samoan  fashion,  and,  after  spending  an  hour  or 
two  with  the  natives,  set  out  on  their  return,  for  they 
were  feeling  somewhat  anxious  at  the  length  of  time 
that  Tuisila  had  been  absent.  Malietoa  was  recog- 
nised by  naval  officers  as  king,  and  it  was  not  very 
unlikely  that  Tuisila  had  been  delayed  by  some  action 
of  the  commander  of  the  war-ship  who  was  anxious  to 
restore  peace  between  the  king  and  the  chiefs  who 
contested  his  sway. 

Night  had  fallen  by  the  time  they  returned,  and  as 
they  drew  near  the  little  village  they  heard  the  sound 
of  Malama's  voice  calling  for  her  husband.  She  was 
about  two  hundred  yards  away  from  the  house,  stand- 
ing in  the  path,  and  the  moment  she  heard  her 
husband's  voice  she  gave  a  glad  cry  and  came  towards 
him. 

"Billee,"  she  said,  "the  white  chief  of  the  ship 
hath  sent  thee  some  clothes.  Come,  see,  they  are 
here  in  the  house.  And  there  have  come  with  us  an 
alii  (officer)  and  six  men  to  bring  thee  and  Dikki  to 
the  captain  of  the  fighting  ship ;  he  desireth  to  talk 
with  thee  both.'* 

w  Good  God,  Dick  ! "  and  the  young  man  clutched 
his  comrade  by  the  shoulder,  "  they  know  who  I  am." 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  spoke  hurriedly  to  the 
wondering  Malama,  who  saw  that  his  whole  form  was 
quivering  with  excitement,  and  then  he  turned  to 
Mayne. 

"You  go  on,  Dick.  You  have  nothing  to  fear. 
You  are  an  Englishman  ;  they  cannot  harm  you.  I 
will  get  back  into  the  mountains,  and  return  home 
through  the  bush,"  and  then,  grasping  his  comrade's 
hand,  he  turned  to  go. 


156  In  a  Samoan  Village. 

u  Bill,*'  said  Mayne,  earnestly,  "  you're  making  a 
mistake.  They  doesn't  know  who  you  are — that  I'm 
sure  of.  They're  all  sitting  down  there  in  front  of  the 
house  talkin'  and  smokin'.  Come  along  and  face  'em." 

"Yes,  you  might  as  well,"  exclaimed  a  strange 
voice,  and  an  officer,  closely  followed  by  two  seamen, 
sprang  upon  and  seized  him. 

Then  began  a  deadly  struggle  between  the  two 
half-naked  beachcombers  and  the  officer  and  his  men. 
Old  as  he  was,  Mayne  possessed  such  strength  and 
suppleness  of  body  that  he  not  only  succeeded  in 
freeing  himself,  but  soon  stretched  the  officer  out 
senseless  by  a  terrific  blow.  Trenchard,  too,  fought 
with  savage  desperation,  and,  although  the  men-of- 
warsmen  had  now  drawn  their  cutlasses,  they  could 
not  use  them  on  account  of  the  darkness  and  for  fear 
of  injuring  each  other.  Mayne,  after  knocking  the 
officer  down,  seized  his  pistol,  and,  springing  to 
Trenchard's  aid,  whispered,  "Make  for  the  beach." 

Then,  before  the  excited  seamen  could  realise  what 
had  happened,  the  naked  figures  of  the  two  beach- 
combers vanished  into  the  night,  but  not  so  quickly 
but  that  Malama  and  Mayne's  young  daughter  fled 
with  them. 

The  darkness  rendered  pursuit  hopeless,  and  the 
officer,  as  soon  as  he  came  to,  ordered  his  crew  into 
the  boat  and  returned  to  the  ship. 

An  hour  or  so  afterward  Tuisila  and  his  party,  who 
had  been  delayed,  returned,  and  search  was  made  for 
his  white  friends.  Half  a  mile  away  they  discovered 
a  place  on  the  beach  from  where  a  canoe  had  been  run 
down  into  the  water. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  chief,  "  it  is  well.     See,  they  have 


In  a  Samoan  Village.  157 

gotten  away  safely,  and  are  now  returning  home  before 


us. 


But  Trenchard  and  Mayne  were  never  seen  in  the 
village  that  nestled  under  the  shadow  of  Mount  Tofua. 
But  long,  long  years  afterwards,  when  the  chief  Tuisila 
had  become  a  middle-aged  man  and  the  infant  half- 
caste  child  of  Malama  had  grown  to  be  a  woman,  a 
ship  one  day  touched  at  a  lonely  little  island  called 
Motu-iti,  a  thousand  miles  or  more  to  the  westward 
of  Samoa.  As  the  captain  of  the  ship  landed  he  was 
met  on  the  beach  by  an  old,  grey-headed  white  man, 
whose  bronze-hued  skin  told  of  a  lifetime  spent  in  the 
South  Seas.  With  feeble  steps  he  conducted  the  cap- 
tain to  his  house,  and  offered  him  such  hospitality  as 
lay  within  his  means,  but  his  tongue  could  scarcely 
frame  the  forgotten  English  words  that  came  to  his 
lips. 

The  seaman  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  then  in 
an  off-hand  manner  asked  him  if  he  was  the  only  white 
man  on  the  island. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  the  only  white  man  on 
the  island.  .  .  .  Twenty-one  years  ago  I  came  here. 
I  drifted  here.  ...  I  had  a  companion  with  me,  but 
he  died  .  .  .  seven  years  ago." 

He  bent  his  head  upon  his  chest  awhile.  "  And 
Malama  died  long  before  that.  The  hardships,  sir, 
oh,  God  !  the  awful  hardships  of  that  long,  long  time 

upon  the  sea — poor  girl,  poor  girl "  and  then  he 

ceased  to  speak. 

For  some  little  time  he  remained  silent,  and  then, 
rising  from  his  seat,  extended  his  hand  to  his  visitor, 
and  in  tremulous  tone*  bade  him  farewell. 


COLLIER: 
THE   " 


Collier:  "The  Blackbirder" 

A   TALE    OF    THE    SOUTH    PACIFIC    LABOUR   TRADE 

THE  trading  brig  Airola,  belonging  to  Sydney,  dropped 
her  anchor  at  noon  in  Papiete  Harbour,  at  Tahiti,  after 
a  smart  run  up  from  Fakarava,  in  the  Paumotu  Group. 
The  skipper  had  then  immediately  gone  ashore  to 
report,  and  owing  to  various  causes — the  principal  of 
which  was  his  careless  and  indiscriminate  manner  of 
mixing  his  drinks — had  not  yet  returned,  although 
the  lights  had  begun  to  glimmer  from  the  shore. 
The  second  mate  and  Allan,  the  half-caste  boatswain, 
professing  an  ardent  anxiety  for  their  superior  officer's 
welfare,  had  been  allowed  to  go  in  search  of  him,  with 
a  parting  warning  from  the  mate  that  if  they  were 
found  drunk  in  the  streets  after  gunfire,  the  "Johnny 
darms "  would  run  them  in  till  the  British  Consul 
took  them  out  again.  And  so,  just  before  eight  bells 
struck,  Jack  Collier,  the  first  mate,  and  Denison,  the 
supercargo,  found  themselves  the  only  persons  in  the 
after  part  of  the  ship,  the  mulatto  steward  having 
gone  for'ard  to  pursue  his  nightly  pastime  of  swindling 
the  copper-coloured  Polynesian  crew  out  of  sundry 
pounds  of  tobacco  by  means  of  the  cheerful  game  of 
poker.  Then  Collier,  speaking  in  his  usual  quiet 

12  161 


162  Collier : 

tones,  said  to  Denison,  as  they  sat  down  on  the  sky- 
light to  smoke — 

"  I  am  rather  glad  the  captain  isn't  likely  to  turn  up 
a  while,  as  I'm  expecting  a  visitor,  and  I  want  you  to 
see  him — he's  likely  to  be  my  father-in-law.  If  all 
goes  well,  and  the  brig  isn't  collared  by  the  French- 
men for  trading  in  the  Paumotus  without  a  license, 
or  some  other  such  charge,  I  mean  to  leave  next 
voyage,  and  settle  down  in  Vavitao,  in  the  Austral 
Group.  For'ard  there  !  strike  eight  bells  ! " 

•  •  .  •  • 

The  sound  of  the  bell  had  scarce  died  away  when 
the  tweep,  tweep  !  of  a  canoe  paddle  was  heard,  and 
then  the  little  craft  ran  alongside,  and  an  old  man  and 
two  girls  stepped  quietly  on  deck. 

Collier,  from  the  gangway,  greeted  them  in  Tahitian, 
and  then  the  three  figures  followed  him  below.  As 
they  came  in  under  the  full  light  of  the  cabin  lamp, 
Denison  saw  that  the  man  was  a  native,  old,  but  erect 
and  muscular,  and  with  the  keen,  hawk-like  features 
peculiar  to  many  of  the  people  of  Eastern  Polynesia. 
The  girls  were  both  young,  with  pure,  olive-tinted 
skins,  and  big,  dreamy  eyes.  The  old  man,  straw 
hat  in  hand,  motioned  them  to  a  lounge  that  ran  along 
the  transoms,  where  they  seated  themselves  demurely, 
and  then  turning  silently  to  Collier,  almost  sprang  at 
him,  and  with  a  soft,  pleased  laugh,  embraced  him 
again  and  again.  Then  the  girls  greeted  him  in  low, 
almost  whispered  tones. 

•  •  •  •  • 

But  after  their  first  shyness  had  worn  off  at  the 
presence  of  a  stranger,  they  too,  came  to  the  cabin 
table,  and  the  five  people  all  sat  and  laughed  and  made 


The  "Blackbirderr  163 

merry  over  the  few  bottles  of  wine  that  were  the  last 
shots  in  the  brig's  lockers,  the  girls  sweetening  theirs 
with  sugar,  and  smiling  at  Denison's  laboured 
attempts  to  follow  them  in  their  soft  Tahitian 
tongue. 

Melanie — so  was  Collier's  flame  called — was  the 
older;  and  as  Denison  looked  into  her  dark,  melting 
eyes,  glowing  with  excitement  at  her  lover's  return, 
he  inwardly  called  his  shipmate  a  lucky  fellow,  and 
thought  this  dark-faced  daughter  of  the  blue  Pacific  to 
be  the  most  witching  little  creature  he  had  ever  seen 
in  all  his  ocean  wanderings. 

.  .  .  •  • 

They  are  all  gone  now,  all  but  Denison.  Gone  is 
the  tall,  erect  figure  of  old  Marama,  with  the  sinewy, 
muscular  frame,  and  keen,  eager  face.  Gone  the 
honest  smile  and  deep  tones  of  Collier  ;  and  gone, 
too,  the  soft  voice  and  dreamy,  love-lit  eyes  of  Melanie 
and  her  sister.  And  to  all  of  them  the  end  came 
suddenly,  when — a  year  after  that  night  they  spent  in 
the  cabin  of  the  old  brig — Collier's  schooner,  the 
Leonie,  turned  turtle  in  a  squall  off  Vavitao,  and  went 
to  the  bottom  with  every  soul  on  board. 

After  the  old  man  and  girls  had  gone  ashore  again, 
Collier  told  his  story  to  Denison,  who  then  wondered 
no  longer  at  the  strong  affection  existing  between  the 
wandering,  taciturn  seaman  and  the  old  Aitutaki 
native,  and  why  Collier  had  given  his  rough  affection 
to  his  daughter,  and  intended  to  marry  her,  "  straight, 
fair,  and  square  in  ship-shape  fashion."  And  this  was 
the  story  he  told. 


1 64  Collier : 

"  Seven  years  ago  I  was  dead  broke  in  Sydney.  I 
had  come  out  second  mate  in  one  of  Green's  ships. 
We  were  over  three  months  in  port  waiting  to  fill  up 
with  wool,  and  one  day  I  got  too  much  liquor  aboard, 
and  the  skipper,  a  drunken,  hasty-tempered  bully,  used 
words  to  me  that  sobered  me  in  two  minutes.  The 
skippers  of  the  Ascalon  and  Woolloomooloo,  two  ships 
lying  near  ours,  were  looking  on,  and  I  turned 
away  to  go  below,  when  my  captain  called  me  a 
4  soldier.' 

"  Then,  before  I  knew  what  I  had  done,  I  knocked 
out  two  of  his  teeth  and  stove  in  a  rib — and  got  put  in 
gaol  for  three  months.  When  I  came  out  I  had  nine 
shillings  in  my  pocket  and  a  heart  bursting  with 
shame.  I  knew  that  as  far  as  my  prospects  in  the  old 
company  went  I  was  a  ruined  man.  But  I  was  only 
twenty-two,  and  knew  I  could  always  get  a  berth  on 
the  coast ;  so  I  turned  to  and  spent  my  nine  shillings 
— mostly  in  whisky. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Three  months  afterwards  I  landed  in  Tahiti  from 
the  barque  Ethan  Allen,  from  Sydney  to  'Frisco.  We 
put  in  for  repairs,  and  I  took  the  liberty  of  remaining 
on  shore  until  the  barque  had  left.  Most  of  her  fore- 
mast hands  were  dead-beat  Sydney  men,  and  as  the 
skipper  knew  I  was  about  the  only  seaman  on  board 
except  himself  and  his  officers,  I  was  afraid  he  would 
have  search  made  for  me,  but  he  didn't.  He  was  too 
anxious  to  beat  the  barque  James  Hannell,  also  from 
Sydney,  that  had  sailed  the  same  day. 

**  There  was  plenty  doing  in  the  blackbirding  trade 
then  (God's  curse  rest  on  those  who  first  started  it  in 
Polynesia,  I  say),  and  I  soon  got  a  berth  in  a  barque 


The  "  Blackbirder?  165 

bound  to  the  Gilbert  Islands  as  first  mate.  The 
skipper  was  a  Frenchman.  Most  of  the  others  aft 
were  of  mixed  nationalities,  and  a  ruffianly  crowd 
they  were,  too  ;  and  the  barque  was  armed  like  a 
privateer  of  fifty  years  ago.  We  were  to  bring  back 
labourers  for  Stewart's  swell  plantation  at  Atimaono, 
in  Tahiti. 

«  •  •  •  • 

"  We  sailed  first  for  Aitutaki,  in  Cook's  Group,  to 
get  some  natives  for  boats'  crews  ;  and  when  in  about 
latitude  17  deg.  50  min.  S.  and  longitude  158  deg.  W., 
we  sighted  a  disabled  vessel.  I  boarded  her,  and 
found  her  to  be  a  native-owned  schooner  from  Mangaia 
(one  of  Cook's  Group)  to  Aitutaki.  She  had  lost 
seven  of  her  people  overboard  by  a  heavy  sea,  which 
made  a  wreck  of  her,  and  the  rest — ten  men  and  two 
female  children — were  almost  dead  from  starvation. 

"  The  two  children  were  old  Marama's  daughters. 
Marama  himself  we  had  found  lying  on  the  deck  with 
a  broken  arm.  The  little  girls  soon  picked  up,  and 
their  father  and  the  rest  of  his  people — Aitutaki  and 
Mauke  natives — agreed  to  do  the  cruise  in  the  barque 
and  work  the  boats — white  sailors  are  no  good  for 
working  boats  where  there  is  much  surf — and  our 
captain  was  very  pleased  to  get  them.  So  we  headed 
N.W.  for  the  Gilberts,  and  in  another  two  weeks 
we  had  made  Arorai  Island  and  begun  our  work 
of  getting  in  a  cargo  of  copper-coloured  Line 
Islanders. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"Villacroix,  our  French  skipper,  was  new  to  the 
trade,  and  had  not  had  time  to  become  brutalised.  He 
gave  Melanie  and  her  little  sister  a  cabin  to  themselves. 


166  Collier : 

and  told  me  to  see  to  their  welfare.  After  Marama's 
arm  had  got  all  right  again  he  was  put  into  my  watch, 
and  from  that  time  began  our  friendship.  He  was  a 
good  sailorman,  always  had  a  willing  heart  for  his 
work,  and,  if  for  nothing  else,  thought  much  of  me 
because  I  was  an  Englishman. 

"Things  went  very  well  at  first.  So  far  we  had 
got  thirty  or  forty  natives  without  using  violent 
means  to  bring  them  on  board  ;  then  one  day  we  made 
Peru,  or  Francis  Island,  one  of  the  Gilbert  Group. 
Villacroix  and  the  second  mate  went  ashore  and  did 
the  'recruiting,'  and  in  two  days  we  had  nearly 
two  hundred  fierce,  wild-eyed,  black-haired  natives 
on  board. 

"  Marama — who  was  in  charge  of  one  of  the  boats 
— told  me  on  the  second  evening  that  many  of  these 
people  had  been  driven  down  to  the  beach  by  the 
chiefs  and  forced  into  the  three  boats.  Those  of  them 
that  didn't  hustle  and  get  in  quick  were  cut  at  and 
slashed  about  with  sharks'  teeth  swords  and  spears. 
And  when  the  boats  came  alongside  the  barque  I  saw 
that  they  were  splashed  with  blood  from  stem  to 
stem. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  At  nightfall  we  had  them  all  under  hatches,  and 
made  sail  on  our  long  beat  back  to  Tahiti ;  and  when 
I  turned  in  that  night  I  swore  to  God  that  once  I  got 
out  of  that  barque  I  would  never  ship  in  such  a  bloody 
trade  again.  All  that  night  we  made  no  headway,  as 
the  wind  had  fallen  light.  At  eight  bells  in  the 
morning  the  skipper  let  a  batch  of  fifty  natives  come 
up  on  deck  to  get  something  to  eat  and  wash  their 
bruised  and  blood-stained  bodies.  They  seemed  quiet 


The  "Blackbirder."  167 

and  docile  enough  now,  but  none  were  hungry,  and 
all  turned  away  from  the  food  offered  them.  Most  of 
them  crowded  together  on  the  deck,  talked  in  low 
tones,  or  looked  blankly  at  one  another.  And  the 
skipper — who,  to  do  him  justice,  showed  compassion 
for  their  condition — let  the  whole  lot  up  from  below 
during  the  day  in  batches  of  fifty. 

"  Night  came,  and  again  the  breeze  died  away. 
From  aloft  I  could  see  the  glimmer  of  the  natives'  fires 
on  the  island  beach,  by  which  I  knew  that  the  strong 
westerly  current  had  set  the  ship  very  fast  towards  the 
land.  The  night  was  close  and  muggy,  and  on  account 
of  this  the  captain  did  not  send  all  the  natives  below 
as  he  would  otherwise  have  done,  but  allowed  about  a 
hundred  of  them  to  bring  up  their  sleeping-mats  and 
lie  on  deck. 

'*  When  my  watch  below  came,  after  seeing  that  the 
guard  were  all  posted  with  loaded  rifles,  some  for'ard, 
some  at  the  break  of  the  poop,  and  some  on  top  of 
the  deck  house,  I  laid  down  in  one  of  the  quarter  boats 
and  soon  fell  asleep,  for  I  was  tired  out  for  want  of 
rest.  I  had  slept  about  an  hour  when  I  was  awakened 
by  loud  cries  and  groans  and  rifle  shots,  and  looking 
over  the  side  of  the  boat  I  saw  that  the  whole  of  the 
main  deck  was  in  possession  of  the  natives,  and  that 
the  crew  were  being  savagely  slaughtered. 

"As  I  jumped  out  of  the  boat,  Marama  and  two  of 
the  native  crew  rushed  on  deck  from  the  cabin,  all 
carrying  Vetterli  rifles,  and,  standing  at  the  break  of 
the  poop,  they  began  firing  into  the  blood-maddened 
crowd  on  the  main  deck.  But  it  was  too  late  to  save 
any  of  the  watch  on  deck  or  those  of  the  crew  who 


168  Collier: 

had  turned  in.  The  captain,  second  mate,  and  third 
mate  and  carpenter  were  already  killed,  as  well  as 
thirteen  of  the  crew  ;  and  then  the  natives  attempted 
to  carry  the  poop  and  finish  those  of  us  who  were  left. 
Marama  handed  me  a  seaman's  cutlass,  and  for  a  space 
of  five  minutes  or  so  we  tried  to  beat  them  back, 
shooting,  slashing,  and  thrusting  at  them  as  they  tried 
to  ascend  the  poop  ladders.  Presently  the  two  native 
sailors  ran  out  of  cartridges,  and  made  a  bolt  down 
into  the  cabin.  Marama  and  I  followed  ;  but  the 
boys  had  shut  the  doors  in  their  flight,  and  shot  the 
bolts  inside.  We  just  had  time  to  fling  ourselves 
bodily  through  the  open  skylight  into  the  cabin  and 
make  it  fast  from  below,  when  the  blood-stained  mob 
got  entire  possession  of  the  poop. 

"  We  lay  there  awhile,  utterly  done  up,  beside  the 
two  native  sailors,  one  of  whom  had  a  great,  gaping 
wound  in  his  chest,  from  which  the  blood  poured  and 
ran  along  the  cabin  floor.  His  mate  seemed  to  be  all 
right,  and  getting  his  courage  up  again,  he  went  to  the 
captain's  cabin  and  brought  out  more  rifles  and  com- 
menced to  load  them.  Melanie  and  her  sister  then 
crept  out  of  their  cabin,  and  at  a  few  quick  words  from 
their  father  brought  us  water  to  drink  and  then  fled 
again  to  their  retreat  to  be  away  from  the  sound  of  the 
firing,  the  thick  smoke,  and  the  yells  and  groans  of  the 
bloody  pandemonium  that  followed. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  That  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  had  ever  shed 
blood.  But  we  were  all  mad  by  this  time — mad  with 
the  scent  of  blood  and  the  hot  lust  of  slaying.  The 
natives  had  taken  about  twenty  cutlasses  from  the  sail- 
maker's  room,  and  others,  with  axes,  were  hacking  and 


The  "  Blackbirderr  169 

hewing  at  the  skylight  and  companion  doors  to  get  at 
us.  And  we  loaded  and  fired  as  quick  as  we  could 
through  the  glass  sides  of  the  skylight,  until  both  sides 
of  it  were  smashed,  and  all  the  brass  bars  cut  away  with 
bullets.  And  scarcely  a  bullet  went  astray. 

"At  last  they  drew  off  and  left  us,  and  we  got 
together  in  the  steward's  pantry.  Marama  pulled  a 
wicker  bottle  of  brandy  out  of  a  locker  and  served  us 
out  a  drink  each  ;  all  except  the  boy  with  the  wound 
in  his  chest,  who  didn't  want  any  kind  of  drink — his 
wound  had  stopped  bleeding  and  his  heart  beating. 

"  If  I  live  to  be  a  hundred,  the  horrors  of  that 
night  will  never  fade  from  my  memory — only  when 
I  get  drunk  and  try  to  drown  them — as  I  did  do 
pretty  often  for  a  long  time  afterwards. 

.  .  .  .  t 

"  They  were  now  again  all  crowded  together  on  the 
main  deck.  Marama  had  crawled  up  and  opened  the 
companion-door,  listened,  and  then  looked  out.  The 
land  was  not  more  than  six  miles  distant,  and  some  of 
the  natives  had  tried  to  alter  the  ship's  course  by 
hauling  the  yards  about,  but  had  only  succeeded  in 
putting  the  ship  in  irons. 

"  Then  Marama,  drawing  me  aside,  whispered 
something  to  me,  and  I,  God  forgive  me,  consented 
to  do  what  he  proposed. 

u  In  the  lazarette  were  ten  kegs  of  powder,  belong- 
ing to  the  four  six-pounders  the  barque  carried.  We 
lifted  off  the  hatch  under  the  cabin-table,  got  up  one 
of  the  kegs,  and  then  hurriedly  bored  a  hole  through 
the  head  and  put  in  a  very  short  fuse. 

"  Then,  covered  by  the  Aitutaki  boy,  who  carri*J 
three  loaded  rifles  in  readiness,  in  case  we  were  blocked 


170  Collier : 

at  the  companion,  we  quietly  crept  up  and  unshipped 
the  door  bolt.  In  my  hand  I  carried  a  lighted  piece 
of  twisted  rag  ;  Marama  had  the  keg. 

"For  a  minute  or  so  we  listened  anxiously,  and 
then,  throwing  open  the  door,  we  sprang  out  and 
gained  the  break  of  the  poop  on  the  port  side.  The 
moment  we  were  seen  there  was  a  wild  yell  of  rage, 
and  half  a  dozen  shots  were  fired  at  us — they  had 
evidently  got  some  cartridges  from  the  pouches  of  the 
murdered  crew,  and  knew  how  to  use  them.  Then 
they  made  a  rush,  but  quick  as  lightning  the  Aitutaki 
sailor  unshipped  the  heavy  poop  ladder  and  turned  it 
over  on  top  of  them  ;  we  had,  during  the  first  attack, 
hauled  up  and  hove  the  ladder  on  the  starboard  side 
overboard.  Before  they  could  get  together  for  another 
rush  I  lit  the  fuse,  and  Marama,  with  blazing  eyes 
and  a  fierce  oath,  hurled  the  keg  right  among  them, 
and  we  rushed  back  towards  the  companion. 

"But  as  we  gained  the  door  the  shock  came,  and 
the  crazy  old  bark  trembled  from  truck  to  keelson.  I 
did  expect  to  see  a  bit  of  a  burst-up,  but  I  never,  as 
Heaven  is  my  witness,  thought  that  the  thing  would 
cause  such  awful  slaughter  among  the  poor  wretches, 
who  were  so  closely  packed  together  that  the  ex- 
plosion took  full  effect  on  them.  There  was  a  great 
hole  torn  in  the  deck  ;  from  the  after-coamings  of 
the  main  hatch  right  up  to  the  poop  deck  there  was 
nothing  left  but  a  wreck  of  timbers. 

"  And  then,  after  that  bursting  roar  had  pealed  over 
the  quiet,  starlit  ocean,  there  came  silence,  and  then 
the  moans  of  poor,  mutilated  humanity.  All  those 
who  were  not  much  injured  sprang  overboard  and 
made  for  the  shore — six  miles  off;  and  I  was  told  by 


The  "  Elackbirder."  I/I 

Frank  Voliero,  the  trader  who  lived  on  Peru  Island 
afterwards  that  thirty-seven  of  them  did  get  ashore 
safely,  but  twice  as  many  perished  in  the  long  swim 
from  exhaustion — and  the  sharks." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Collier  paced  the  deck  awhile  in  silence,  and  then 
knocked  the  ashes  of  his  pipe  out  against  the  rail. 

"  Well,  that's  all,  Denison.  As  for  us  three  men 
and  the  two  girls,  we  managed  somehow  to  get  the 
ship  before  the  wind  at  daylight,  and  then  I  let  her 
run  steadily  to  the  westward  for  a  couple  of  days. 
...  I  daresay  you've  heard  of  how  we  did  eventually 
get  her  back  to  Tahiti  again.  I  left  her  there,  sick 
at  heart,  and  as  long  as  I  can  go  aloft  with  a  slush-pot 
in  an  honest  trading  ship,  I'll  never  ship  in  another 
blackbirder. 

"  Two  days  after  we  had  hauled  up  to  try  and  make 
a  south-east  course,  I  looked  down  through  the  shat- 
tered skylight  and  saw  the  two  girls  kneeling  on  the 
cabin  floor,  clasping  each  other's  hands.  They  were 
crying.  I  went  below  quietly  to  ask  what  was  the 
matter.  The  younger  one  raised  her  face  and  said — 

"  Nay,  we  are  well.  But  Melanie  and  I  have  been 
praying  to  God  to  forgive  my  father  and  thee  for  the 
shedding  of  blood." 


IN  THE  EVENING 


In  the  Evening 


THE  brave  south-east  trades  had  carried  our  schooner 
well  down  into  the  straits  dividing  Upolu  from  misty, 
cloud-capped  Savaii,  and  then  left  us  at  sunset  to  drift 
about,  hoping  for  the  land  breeze  to  set  in.  Two 
miles  off,  on  our  port  hand,  lay  the  little  verdant  island 
of  Manono,  the  gem  of  all  Samoa,  and  the  stronghold 
of  Mataafa.  From  the  schooner's  deck  we  could  see 
the  evening  fires  in  the  village  of  Saleaula  sending  out 
streaks  and  patches  of  intermittent  light  through  the 
palm-trunks  upon  the  white  sandy  beach,  and  reveal- 
ing at  intervals  the  huge,  ill-built  native  church  of 
white  coral  in  all  its  ghastliness. 

I  think  the  captain  of  our  schooner  was  the  prince 
of  all  island-trading  shippers.  No  one  had  ever  known 
him  to  be  angry  for  more  than  ten  minutes,  even 
under  the  most  aggravating  circumstances  ;  and  on 
this  particular  evening,  the  fact  that  the  wind  dying 
away  probably  meant  the  loss  of  a  day  to  us,  seemed 
to  him  the  veriest  trifle.  Other  captains  would  have 
sworn  at  the  wind,  at  the  calm,  at  the  crew,  and, 
lastly,  at  the  supercargo. 

I  was  leaning  over  the  rail  looking  shorewards, 
when  the  skipper  lounged  up  on  deck,  cigar  in 

175 


176  In  the  Evening. 

mouth,  and  joined  me.  These  were  the  days  of  the 
troubles  between  Mataafa — the  loyal  lieutenant  of  his 
exiled  king  —  and  the  Germans.  Thrice  had  the 
valiant  old  warrior,  with  his  naked  fighting-men, 
faced  the  deadly  Mausers  of  the  Teuton,  and  thrice 
had  they  proved  victorious.  Then  came  the  great 
gale  of  March,  1889,  when,  in  one  wild  smother  of 
surf  and  foam,  the  six  foreign  warships  in  Apia 
harbour  went  down  at  their  anchors,  and  the  Calliope 
alone  escaped. 

We  were  speaking  of  that  awful  day,  and  of  the 
gallant  manner  in  which  Mataafa  and  his  warriors, 
dashing  into  the  boiling  surf,  and  fierce,  sweeping 
back-wash,  had  rescued  many  of  the  foes  they  so 
bitterly  hated — the  German  bluejackets  of  the  Adler^ 
the  Olga^  and  the  Eber. 

Presently  Packenham  said,  in  his  slow,  lazy  way — 

"  Say,  sonny,  what  do  you  say  if  we  lower  the  boat 
and  take  a  run  ashore,  have  a  drink  of  kava  and  come 
off  again  ? " 

"And  find  the  schooner  drifted  clean  out  of  the 
straits  and  out  of  sight." 

"That's  all  right,  my  lad,  don't  you  worry.  Here, 
one  of  you  fellows,  pass  that  lead  line  aft." 

Packenham  sounded  and  got  eighteen  fathoms,  and 
then,  to  the  mate's  disgust,  we  dropped  our  anchor. 
In  a  few  minutes,  with  a  crew  of  four  Savage  Island 
boys,  we  had  left  the  schooner  for  the  white  beach  of 
Saleaula,  the  principal  village  of  Manono.  As  we 
pulled  in  the  sound  of  the  rowlocks  brought  a  crowd 
of  people  to  the  beach.  Among  them  we  saw  the 
gleam  of  many  a  rifle  barrel,  and  our  crew  began  to 
get  funky.  Now,  although  there  were  no  Germans 


In  the  Evening. 

in  the  boat,  we  took  good  care  to  keep  bawling  out  in 
Samoan,  "  Don't  fire,  good  friends,  we  are  English  ! " 

Suddenly  a  huge  blaze  burst  out.  A  great  pile  of 
au  lama  (coconut  torches)  had  been  lit,  and  by  its 
light  every  one  in  the  boat  became  clearly  visible. 

A  deep  voice  challenged  us  from  the  sea  face  of  the 
olo  (fort),  «  O  al  ea  outou  ?  "  ("  Who  are  you  ?  ")  and 
then  added,  "  Answer  quickly." 

We  did  answer  quickly,  and  then  came  a  loud 
chorus  of  welcome.  As  we  pulled  in  the  boat  bumped 
heavily  on  a  knob  of  coral.  Both  Packenham  and 
myself  were  standing  at  the  time.  I  tried  to  save 
myself  by  making  a  grab  at  the  skipper's  sleeve, 
missed,  and  went  overboard. 

Yells  and  shrieks  of  laughter  followed.  The 
manala — the  flash  young  warriors  —  leaping  down 
from  the  olo  and  from  out  their  various  places  of 
ambush,  rifle  and  knife  in  hand,  danced  with  delight, 
and  the  soft,  merry  tones  of  the  women's  and  girls' 
laughter  mingled  with  theirs  as  they  looked  at  me 
wading  ashore. 

Now,  I  happened  to  know  Manono  and  the 
Manono  people  pretty  well,  although  ten  years  had 
passed  since  I  was  last  there.  Saying  nothing,  and 
taking  no  notice  of  the  continuous  merriment,  I  went 
in  for  a  little  by-play. 

Said  I,  in  as  solemn  and  dignified  tone  as  I  could 
command,  "  Ye  be  ill-mannered  people  here." 

"  Aue  !  "  they  cried.  "  Who  is  this  ?  He  speaketh 
our  tongue.'* 

"  I  am  not  a  German,"  I  said. 

"  Sorry  am  I,  then,"  said  a  fat-faced,  clean-shaved, 
young  fellow  stepping  up  to  me,  and  balancing  in  his 

'3 


178  In  the  Evening. 

hand  a  huge  nifa  oil  (the  "death  knife")  used  for 
decapitation.  "  The  soul  of  my  knife  hungereth  for 
the  head  of  a  German." 

A  young  chief,  whose  name  I  had  for  the  moment 
forgotten,  but  whose  face  was  familiar,  gave  the  saucy 
fellow  a  cuff,  and  said,  "  Shame,  shame,  fool  !  *' 

Here  Packenham  joined  me.  "  Talofa  all  you  good 
people,"  said  he  in  very  good  Samoan  ;  "  and  so  you 
were  going  to  fire  into  the  boat  ?  And  I  am  an 
American  and  my  friend  an  Englishman.  Oh, 
shame ! " 

"  Bah  !  "  said  a  fat  old  woman,  "  Americans  are 
good.  Steinberger,  the  friend  of  Grant,  was  one, 
and  he  was  a  good  man,  and  taught  us  how  to  fight ; 
but  English — pah  !  they  fear  the  Germans,  and  won't 
help  us  to  fight  the  pigs." 

Applause  and  dissent.  Packingham  looked  mean- 
ingly at  me.  I  could  see  that  we  were  not  likely  to 
have  an  extra  cordial  welcome  on  the  strength  of  my 
being  an  Englishman,  so  I  changed  my  tactics. 

"  Listen,"  I  said  ;  "  I  am  a  perofeta  ma  tagata  poto  (a 
wise  man  and  one  who  prophesies).  I  can  tell  you  of 
some  things  that  you  have  forgotten.  If  I  lie,  then 
give  us  no  kava  to-night." 

They  all  crowded  round  us ;  the  men  with  wild, 
bushy  heads,  grasping  their  rifles  in  their  hands ;  the 
women,  long-haired  and  bare-bosomed,  some  with 
smiling  faces,  others  dark  and  lowering. 

Said  I  :  "There  lived  here  in  Manono  once — this 
Manono,  which  all  the  world  knows  is  the  place 
where  the  people  get  as  fat  as  pigs  by  eating  foil " 
(shell-fish) — they  laughed — "a  missionary,  not  a  white 
missionary,  but  one  of  yourselves.  His  name  was 


In  the  Evening.  179 

Leutelu,  that  of  his  wife  Salome,  that  of  his  daughter 
Eline,  that  of  his  son  Taisami,  that  of  the  English- 
man that  dwelt  with  him "  I  paused  a  minute  ; 

the  fat  old  woman  put  her  face  close  and  peered  into 
mine,  then  dropped  the  torch  she  was  carrying  and 
swooped  down  upon  and  hugged  me,  and  then  they 
all  recognised  me,  and  I  shook  hands  with  the  men 
and  rubbed  noses  with  the  women  until  I  was  fairly 
exhausted.  Packenham  came  in  for  his  share  too. 
He  kissed  all  the  young  girls — much  to  their  anger — 
a  Samoan  girl  looks  upon  kissing  with  disgust. 

However,  we  were  all  right  now.  They  carried 
us  off  to  the  village,  and  brought  us  to  the  chief's 
house.  Mataafa  was  then  away  at  Apia,  deep  in 
politics,  and  we  were  not  sorry  ;  for  the  girls  promised 
us  a  dance  after  our  kava.  Mataafa  is  a  Catholic,  and 
somewhat  rigid  in  his  ideas,  and  did  not  permit  the 
poulay  or  native  dance,  in  his  lines.  We  had  no 
sooner  seated  ourselves  in  the  big  house  than  a  whole 
bundle  of  garments  was  placed  before  me — shirts, 
coats,  pyjamas,  trousers,  &c.  Among  them  were 
German  and  American  sailors'  uniforms — sad  me- 
mentoes of  the  Trenton,  Vandalia^  and  Nipsic,  and  the 
three  German  ships. 

Taking  a  suit  of  pyjamas,  I  retired  outside  and 
changed  my  wet  clothing.  When  I  entered  again 
the  preparations  for  kava-making  had  commenced. 
Meantime  Packenham  had  sent  to  the  boat,  and  our 
crew  brought  up  half  a  dozen  of  beer  and  a  bottle  of 
brandy.  The  women  made  short  work  of  the  beer, 
and  the  chiefs  each  pledged  us  in  a  stiff  tot  of  brandy. 

Beside  Packenham  there  sat  a  very  pretty  girl 
called  Maema.  She  flirted  with  him  most  out- 


i8o  In  the  Evening. 

rageously.  The  young  lady  who  sat  by  my  side  had 
the  appropriate  name  of  Manuia  (Happiness),  for  she 
was  as  bright  as  a  fairy.  Ten  years  before  she  was  a 
little  thing  of  eight,  and  used  to  bring  me  every  Sunday 
morning  in  that  very  village  a  roasted  fowl  and  a 
basket  of  cooked  taro  from  her  father,  who  was  a 
particular  crony  of  mine.  She  was  now  a  splendidly 
formed  young  woman,  with  perfectly  oval  features 
and  a  wealth  of  long  silken  hair.  Her  father,  she 
told  me,  was  fighting  then  on  the  side  of  Tamasese, 
the  German  puppet  king  and  the  usurper  of  Malie- 
toa's  kingdom.  Yet  her  brother  and  her  husband 
(she  was  now  a  widow,  at  eighteen)  were  both  killed 
fighting  against  the  Germans  in  their  attack  on 
Saluafata  a  month  previously.  Such  instances  as  this 
were  common  enough  in  distracted  Samoa,  and 
showed  the  fratricidal  nature  of  the  struggle. 

Said  I,  in  a  whisper,  "  Manuia,  would  you  marry 
again,  a  white  man,  for  instance,  an  American  say," 
and  then  I  added,  "  my  friend  in  particular  ?  " 

She  nodded  nonchalantly.  "  Faatalia  ia  (if  it  please 
him),  and  my  people  consent.  I  would  rather 
have  an  American — they  are  not  afraid  of  the  Ger- 
mans." 

Then  at  the  chief's  command  Manuia,  Maema, 
and  five  or  six  other  young  girls,  rose  up  and  sat 
themselves  down  again  beside  the  kava  bowl,  and  the 
utmost  decorum  and  silence  prevailed  during  the 
important  ceremony.  After  the  kava  drinking  was 
over  the  poula  commenced,  and  we  were  treated 
to  some  high-kicking,  beside  which  the  fin-de-sieclt 
ballet  is  but  a  hollow  mockery. 

We  remained   in   the  village  till    dawn,  and    the 


In  the   'Evening.  181 

genial  and  hospitable  people  treated  us  like  long-lost 
brothers.  Our  boat  was  loaded  to  the  gunwales  with 
fruit  and  vegetables,  and  Packenham  was  the  re- 
cipient of  innumerable  fans,  tortoise-shell  rings,  and 
native  combs.  My  quondam  acquaintance,  the  sweet- 
faced  young  widow  with  the  star-like  eyes,  embraced 
both  Packenham  and  myself  tenderly,  and  candidly 
confessed  her  inability  to  decide  whom  she  liked  best. 
She  was  a  merry-hearted  creature,  and  I  honestly 
believe  that  handsome  Packenham  had  inspired  her 
with  false  hopes. 

As  the  boat  pushed  off  the  whole  village  gathered 
on  the  beach  and  called  out  their  farewells — "  To  fa 
oulua,  to  fa  !  Manuia  oulua  I  le  alofa  lo  tatou  Atua  ! 
(Farewell  you  two — farewell  !  May  you  both  be 
happy  in  the  love  of  God  ! )" 


THE    G*E(EAT   CRUSHING   AT 
MOUNT  SUGA^-BAG 


The  Great  Crushing  at  Mount 
Sugar-Bag 

A   QUEENSLAND    MINING   TALE 

"  LET'S  sling  it,  boys.  There's  no  fun  in  our  bullock- 
ing  here  day  after  day  and  not  making  tucker  !  I'm 
sick  to  death  of  the  infernal  hole,  and  mean  to  get  out 
of  it." 

"  So  am  I,  Ned.  I  was  sick  of  it  a  month  ago," 
said  Harry  Durham,  filling  his  pipe  and  flinging  him- 
self down  at  full  length  upon  his  luxurious  couch — a 
corn-sack  suspended  between  four  posts  driven  into 
the  earthen  floor  of  the  hut.  "  I'm  ready  to  chuck  it 
up  to-morrow  and  drive  a  mob  of  nanny-goats  to  the 
Palmer,  like  young  Preston  did  the  other  day." x 

"  How  much  do  we  owe  that  old  divil  Ikey 
now  ?  "  said  Rody  Minogue,  the  third  man  of  the 
party,  who  sat  at  the  open  doorway  looking  out  upon 
the  disreputable  collection  of  bark  humpies  that  con- 
stituted the  played-out  mining  township  of  Mount 
Sugar-bag. 

"  About  £jo  now,"  said  Durham  ;  "  but  against 
that  he's  got  our  five  horses.  The  old  beast  means 
to  shut  down  on  us,  I  can  see  that  plainly  enough. 

*  In  the  early  days  of  the  rush  to  the  Palmer  River  GoldfieL-l 
nanny-goati  brought  £»  101.  each. 

185 


1 86  The  Great  Crushing 

When  I  went  to  him  on  Saturday  for  the  tucker  he 
had  a  face  on  him  as  long  as  a  child's  coffin." 

"Look  here,  boys,"  said  Buller,  the  pessimist,  "let 
the  infernal  old  vampire  keep  our  three  saddle-horses 
— they  are  worth  more  than  seventy  quid — and  be 
hanged  to  him.  We'll  have  the  two  pack-horses  left. 
Let  us  sell  one,  and  with  the  other  to  carry  our  swags, 
we'll  foot  it  to  Cleveland  Bay,  or  Bowen,  I  don't  care 
which." 

"  An'  what  are  we  goin*  to  do  whin  we  get  there  ?  *' 
asked  Rody. 

Buller  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Dashed  if  I  know, 
Rody  ;  walk  up  and  down  Bowen  jetty  and  watch 
the  steamers  come  in." 

"  And  live  on  pack-horse  meat,"  said  Durham. 

"Now,  look  here,"  and  Rody  got  up  from  the 
doorway  and  sat  upon  the  rough  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  "  I  want  you  fellows  to  listen  to  me. 
First  of  all,  tell  me  this  :  Isn't  it  through  me  entirely 
that  we've  managed  to  get  tick  from  old  Ikey  Cohen 
at  all  ? " 

" Right,**  said  Durham;  "no  one  but  you,  Rody, 
would  have  had  courage  enough  to  make  love  to 
greasy-faced  Mrs.  Ikey." 

"  Don't  be  ungrateful.  Every  time  I've  been  to 
the  place  I've  sympathised  with  her  hard  lot  in  being 
tied  to  an  uncongenial  mate  like  Ikey  Cohen,  and  for 
every  half  a  dozen  times  I've  squeezed  her  hand  you 
fellows  have  to  thank  me  for  a  sixpenny  plug  of  sheep- 
wash  tobacco." 

"By  Heavens!  how  you  must  have  suffered  for  that 
tin  of  baking-powder  that  we  got  last  week,  and  which 
didn't  go  down  in  the  bill !  " 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  187 

Rody  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"Well,  perhaps  I  did.  But  never  mind  poking 
fun  at  me,  I'm  talking  seriously  now.  Here  we  are, 
stone-broke,  and  divil  a  chance  can  I  see  of  our  getting 
on  to  anything  good  at  Sugar-bag.  We've  got  about 
forty  tons  of  stone  at  grass,  haven't  we  ?  What  do 
you  think  it'll  go  ?  " 

"  About  fifteen  pennyweights,"  said  Durham. 

"  I  say  ten,"  said  Buller. 

"  And  I  say  it's  going  to  be  the  biggest  crushing 
on  Sugar-bag  since  the  old  days,"  said  Rody. 

"  Rot ! "  said  Durham. 

"  Now  just  you  wait  and  listen  to  what  I've  got  to 
say.  We've  got  forty  tons  at  grass  now.  Now,  we 
won't  get  a  show  to  crush  for  some  weeks,  because 
there's  Tom  Doyle's  lot  and  then  Patterson's  to  go 
through  first.  It's  no  use  asking  old  Fryer  to  put  our 
stuff  through  before  theirs.  Besides,  we  don't  want 
him  to." 

"  Don't  we  ?  I  think  we  want  to  get  out  of  this 
God-forsaken  hole  as  quick  as  we  can." 

"  So  we  do.  But  getting  our  stuff  through  first 
won't  help  us  away.  Reckon  it  up,  my  boys  !  Forty 
tons,  even  if  it  goes  an  ounce,  means  only  about 
£140.  Out  of  that  old  Cohen  gets  £70 — just  half, 
that  would  leave  us  ^70  ;  out  of  this  we  shall  have 
to  give  Fryer  ^40  for  crushing.  That  leaves  us 

£30." 

"  That'll  take  us  to  Townsville  or  Cooktown,  any- 
way," said  Durham. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rody,  "  if  we  get  it.  But  we  won't. 
That  stone  isn't  going  to  crush  for  more  than  ten 
pennyweights  to  the  ton." 


1 88  The  Great  Crushing 

A  dead  silence  followed.  Rody  was  the  oldest  and 
most  experienced  miner  of  them  all,  and  knew  what 
he  was  talking  about.  Then  Duller  groaned. 

"That  means,  then,  that  after  we've  paid  Fryer 
£40  for  his  crushing  we'll  have  ^30  for  old  Cohen 
and  nothing  for  ourselves." 

"That's  it,  Ned." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment,  until  Durham,  who 
had  good  Scriptural  knowledge,  began  cursing  King 
Pharaoh  for  not  crossing  the  Red  Sea  first  in  boats  and 
blocking  Moses  and  his  crowd  from  landing  on  the 
other  side. 

"  Well,  wait  a  minute,"  resumed  Rody,  "  I  haven't 
finished  yet.  We  gave  our  mokes  to  old  Cohen, 
didn't  we,  as  a  guarantee  ?  He  said  he'd  send  them  to 
Dotswood  Station,  because  there  was  no  feed  here. 
What  do  you  think  the  old  beast  did  ? " 

"  Sold  'em,"  said  Buller. 

*'  No,  he'd  hardly  be  game  to  do  that.  But  instead 
of  sending  them  to  Dotswood,  he's  got  the  two  pack- 
horses  running  the  mail  coach  between  the  Broughton 
and  Charters  Towers,  and  the  three  saddle-horses  are 
getting  their  hides  ridden  off  them  carrying  the  mail 
between  Cleveland  Bay  (Townsville)  and  Bowen." 

"The  infernal  old  sweep  !"  said  Durham,  springing 
up  from  his  bunk.  "  Who  told  you  this,  Rody  ? 
Greasy-face  ?  " 

"  My  informant,  Mr.  Durham,  was  Mrs.  Isaac 
Cohen,  or,  as  you  so  vulgarly  but  truly  call  her, 
'  Greasy-face.' " 

Presently,  after  taking  due  notice  of  his  mates' 
wrathful  visages,  Rody  began  again — 

"So  this  is    how  the  matter  stands.      We  three 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  189 

fellows,  who  are  working  like  thundering  idiots  to 
pay  off  old  Ikey's  store  account,  are  actually  running 
a  coach  for  him,  and  conveying  her  Majesty's  mails 
for  him,  and  he  gets  the  money  !  Now,  I  don't  want 
to  do  anything  wrong,  but  I'm  hanged  if  I'm  going  to 
let  him  bilk  us,  and  if  you  two  will  do  what  I  want 
we  will  get  even  with  him.  But  you'll  have  to 
promise  me  to  do  just  exactly  what  I  tell  you.  Are 
you  willing  ? " 

"  Right  you  are,  Rody.     Go  ahead.'* 

"I'm  not  going  into  details  just  at  present,  but  I 
can  promise  you  that  we'll  leave  Sugar-bag  in  a  month, 
or  less,  from  to-night,  with  ^50  each.  And  old  Ikey 
is  going  to  give  it  to  us ;  and  what  is  more,  he  won't 
dare  to  ask  us  to  give  it  back  again." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  You'll  know  when  the  proper  time  comes.  But 
from  to-morrow  fortnight  we  don't  raise  a  bit  more 
stone  from  our  duffing  old  claim.  We're  going  to 
start  on  those  big  mullocky  leaders  in  Mason's  and 
Crow's  old  shafts,  and  raise  about  ten  tons  before  we 
crush  the  stone.  We  must  have  it  ready  at  the 
battery  as  soon  as  the  stone  is  through.  Now,  there 
you  are  again,  making  objections.  I  know  that  it 
didn't  go  six  pennyweights,  but  it's  going  to  be 
powerful  rich  this  time." 

Mr.  Isaac  Cohen  was  the  sole  business  man  at 
Mount  Sugar-bag,  and  although  the  majority  of  the 
miners  working  the  claims  on  the  field  were  not 
doing  well,  Mr.  Cohen  was.  In  addition  to  being  the 
only  storekeeper  and  publican  within  a  radius  of  fifty 
miles,  he  was  also  the  butcher,  baker,  and  saddler,  this 


190  The  Great  Crushing 

last  vocation  having  been  his  original  means  of  liveli- 
hood for  many  years  in  Sydney.  A  small  investment, 
however,  in  some  Northern  Queensland  mining  shares 
led  him  on  the  road  to  fortune,  and  although  never 
entirely  forsaking  his  old  trade,  by  steady  industry 
and  a  rigid  avoidance  of  such  luxuries  as  soap  and  a 
change  of  clothing,  he  gradually  accumulated  enough 
money  to  add  several  other  businesses  to  that  of 
saddlery.  He  had  arrived  at  Sugar-bag  when  that 
ephemeral  township  was  in  the  zenith  of  its  glory, 
and  now,  although  it  was  on  the  eve  of  the  days 
that  lead  to  abandoned  shafts  and  grass-grown,  silent 
crushing  mills,  wherein  wandering  goats  camp  on  the 
water  tables,  and  death  adders  and  carpet  snakes  crawl 
up  the  nozzle  of  the  bellows  in  the  blacksmith's  forge 
to  hibernate,  he  still  remained.  No  doubt  he  would 
have  left  long  before  had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that 
the  remaining  ninety  or  a  hundred  miners  in  the  place 
were  all  in  his  debt.  Then,  besides  this,  he  had 
bought  a  mob  of  travelling  cattle  and  stocked  a  block 
of  country  with  them.  The  drover  in  charge,  a 
fatuous  young  Scotchman,  with  large,  watery-blue 
eyes  and  red  hair,  had  succumbed  to  Ikey's  alleged 
whisky  and  the  news  that  there  was  no  water  ahead 
of  him  for  another  sixty  miles.  Ikey  buried  him 
decently  (sending  the  bill  home  to  the  young  man's 
relations,  including  the  cost  of  the  liquor  so  freely 
consumed  on  the  mournful  occasion)  and  took  charge 
of  the  cattle,  at  the  same  time  writing  to  the  owners 
and  informing  them  that  their  cattle  were  dying  by 
hundreds,"  and  advising  them  to  place  them  in  the 
hands  of  an  agent  for  sale.  And  to  show  Mr.  Cohen's 
integrity,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  he  named  Mr. 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  191 

Andrew  M'Tavish,  the  local  auctioneer,  as  a  suitable 
person,  but  neglected  to  state  that  Mr.  M'Tavish  had 
died  in  Bowen  hospital  a  month  previously,  and  that 
Ikey  Cohen  had  bought  his  business.  Consequently 
the  cattle  went  cheap,  and  Ikey  bought  them  himself. 
Thus  by  honest  industry  he  prospered,  while  every  one 
else  in  Sugar-bag  went  to  the  wall — /.*.,  the  bar  of 
Ikey  Cohen's  Royal  Hotel.  And  at  the  bar  they 
were  always  welcome,  for  even  if — as  sometimes  did 
occur — a  disheartened,  stone-broke  customer  drank 
too  much  of  Mr.  Cohen's  irregular  whisky  and  died 
in  his  back  yard,  leaving  a  few  shillings  recorded 
against  his  name  on  the  bar-room  slate,  Ikey  forgave 
the  corpse  the  debt  and  buried  him  (he  was  the  Mount 
Sugar-bag  undertaker)  for  the  trifling  sum  of  j£iO — 
paid  by  sending  round  the  hat  on  the  day  of  the 
funeral.  In  due  course  Ikey  was  made  a  J.P.,  and 
then  began  to  think  of  Parliament. 

About  two  years  after  his  arrival  at  Sugar-bag,  Ikey 
had  occasion  to  visit  Townsville  on  business,  and  on 
his  return  was  accompanied  by  his  newly-wedded  wife, 
a  Brisbane-dressed  lady  of  thirty  or  so.  Somewhat  to 
his  surprise,  a  number  of  the  miners  at  Sugar-bag  who 
had,  during  their  travels,  visited  the  southern  capitals, 
greeted  her  as  an  old  friend,  and  congratulated  him  on 
securing  such  an  excellent  life-partner ;  and,  as  he 
had  married  the  lady  after  only  a  few  days'  acquaint- 
ance, he  naturally  enough  accepted  her  explanation  of 
having  presided  over  various  bars  in  Melbourne  and 
Sydney,  where  she  had  met  a  great  number  of  Queens- 
landers.  Of  course  there  were  not  wanting,  even  at 
Sugar-bag,  evil-minded  beings  to  openly  assert  that 
Mr.  Cohen's  expression  of  surprise  at  the  wide  circle 


192  The  Great  Crushing 

of  his  wife's  friends  was  all  bunkum,  and  that  "Greasy- 
face,"  as  the  lady  was  nicknamed,  was  only  another  of 
his  cute  financial  investments. 

If  this  was  correct  it  certainly  showed  his  sound 
judgment,  for  her  presence  in  the  bar  of  the  Royal 
proved  highly  lucrative  to  him ;  and  showed  as  well 
that  he  was  above  any  feelings  of  unworthy  jealousy. 
For  although  the  title  of  "  Greasy-face "  was  not 
altogether  an  inappropriate  one,  the  bride  was  by  no 
means  bad-looking,  and  possessed  to  a  very  great 
degree  that  peculiar  charm  of  manner  and  freedom 
from  stiff  conventionality  so  noticeable  among  the  fair 
sex  on  new  rushes  to  goldfields.  Perhaps,  however, 
Mr.  Cohen  did  think  that  her  preference  for  Rody 
Minogue  was  a  little  too  openly  shown  to  the  neglect 
of  his  other  customers  and  her  admirers  ;  but,  being  a 
business  man,  and  devoid  of  sentiment,  he  said  nothing, 
but  charged  Rody  and  his  mates  stifFer  prices  for  the 
rations  he  sold  them,  and  was  quite  satisfied. 

•  .  •  .  • 

On  the  morning  after  the  three  mates  had  discussed 
their  precarious  condition,  Rody,  instead  of  going  up 
to  the  claim  with  Durham  and  Buller,  remained  in 
camp  to  write  a  letter.  It  was  addressed  to  "Mr. 
James  Kettle,  c/o  Postmaster,  Adelong,  N.S.  Wales," 
and  contained  an  earnest  request,  for  old  friendship's 
sake,  to  send  Mr.  Harry  Durham  a  telegram,  as  per 
copy  enclosed,  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Then,  lighting  his  pipe,  Rody  left  the  hut,  and 
walked  up  towards  the  Royal.  When  about  half-way 
he  sat  down  on  a  log  and  waited  for  the  mailman, 
who  he  knew  would  be  passing  along  presently  on  his 
way  down  to  Cleveland  Bay.  He  had  intended  to  go 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  193 

up  to  Cohen's  the  previous  evening  and  write  and  post 
his  letters  there,  but  Ikey  being  the  postmaster,  and 
Rody  a  particularly  cute  individual,  the  latter  changed 
his  mind.  The  mailman  usually  slept  at  Cohen's  on 
his  way  down  to  the  Bay,  and  being  a  good-natured 
and  convivial  soul,  and  a  fellow-countryman  of  Rody, 
the  two  were  on  very  good  terms. 

Presently  Rody  saw  him  ride  out  of  Cohen's  yards, 
leading  a  pack-horse,  and  turn  down  the  track  which 
led  past  the  place  where  he  was  waiting. 

"  How  are  you,  Dick  ?  "  said  Rody  ;  "  pull  up  a 
minute,  will  you  ?  I've  got  a  letter  here  I  want  you 
to  post  for  me  in  Townville.  It's  not  good  enough 
leaving  a  letter  in  old  Ikey's  over  night." 

"  Right,"  said  the  mailman,  taking  the  letter  ; 
"  want  anything  else  done,  Rody  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  would  you  mind  bringing  me  out  as  much 
lead  as  you  can  carry  when  you  come  back,  40  or 
50  Ib.  Don't  bring  it  to  the  humpy ;  just  dump  it 
down  here  behind  this  log,  where  I  can  get  it.  I'll 
pay  you  for  it  in  a  week  or  two  ;  and  buy  me  a  horse- 
shoer's  rasp  as  well." 

"  O.K.,  old  man.  I  can  get  it  easily  enough,  and 
drop  it  here  for  you  when  I  come  back  on  Thursday. 
So  long  ;  "  and  Dick  the  mailman  jogged  off. 


Ten  minutes  later  Rody  sauntered  up  to  Mr.  Ikey 
Cohen's  store.  Mrs.  Isaac  was  there,  opening  a  box 
of  mixed  groceries. 

"  Hallo,  Rody  !  how  are  you  ?  Here,  quick  ;  stick 
this  in  your  shirt  before  the  little  beast  comes  in;"  and 
"Greasy-face"  pushed  a  bottle  of  pickles  into  his 

H 


194  T&e  Great  Crushing 

hand,  just  as  Ikey  entered — in  time  to  see  the 
pickles. 

"  Not  at  work  this  morning,  Mr.  Minogue  ?  " 

"  No ;  I've  come  up  to  have  a  bit  of  a  chat  with 
you.  How  much  are  the  pickles,  Mrs.  Cohen  ?  " 

"  Two  shillings,  Mr.  Minogue,"  she  answered,  with 
a  world  of  sorrow  expressed  in  the  quick  glance  she 
gave  him,  knowing  that  Ikey  had  detected  her. 

"  How  vas  the  claim  shaping  ?  "  asked  Ikey,  pre- 
sently. 

Rody  shook  his  head.  "  Just  the  same.  We  don't 
like  the  look  of  the  stone  at  all.  Of  course  the  gold 
is  as  fine  as  flour,  and  you  can't  tell  what  it's  going  to 
turn  out  till  you  get  it  under  the  stampers.  We  are 
thinking  of  raising  some  of  that  mullocky  stuff  out  of 
Mason's  and  Crow's  old  claims.  We  got  some  good 
prospects  lately." 

"  Veil,  you'd  better  do  somedings  pretty  qvick.  I 
can't  go  on  subblying  you  and  your  mates  vid  rations 
for  noding,"  said  Mr.  Cohen,  with  an  unpleasant  look 
on  his  face.  He  was  not  in  a  pleasant  temper,  for  he 
disliked  Rody  and  his  mates — the  former  in  particular 
— and  would  have  shut  down  on  them  long  before  only 
for  the  fact  that  all  three  men  were  such  favourites  on 
the  field  that  an  action  like  this  would  have  meant  a 
big  hole  in  his  bar  profits. 

"  That's  true  enough,"  said  Rody,  with  apparent 
humility,  but  with  a  look  in  his  eye  that  had  Ikey 
noticed  it  would  have  made  him  step  back  out  of  his 
reach,  "and  I've  come  to  have  a  talk  with  you  on  the 
matter.  Will  you  mind  just  showing  us  how  we 
stand  ? " 

"Here  you  are  j  here's  your  ackound  up  to  the  tay 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  195 

pefore  yestertay — the  last  of  the  month,"  and  the  store- 
keeper handed  him  the  bill. 

Rody  looked  at  it — £jo  IDS.  6d. 

"  You  charge  us  pretty  stiff,  Mr.  Cohen,  for  some 
of  the  tucker  and  powder  and  fuse." 

"  Veil,  ven  you  can't  bay  gash  ! "  and  the  little  man 
humped  his  shoulders  and  spread  his  ten  dirty  fingers 
wide  out. 

Rody  continued  to  scrutinise  the  items  on  the  bill. 
"  We're  paying  pretty  stiff  for  keeping  those  mokes  at 
Dotswood — eight  quid  is  a  lot  of  money  when  we  get 
no  use  out  of  'em." 

"  Vy>  you  vas  full  of  grumbles.  Vat  haf  you  to 
comblain  of?  Thirty-two  veeks'  grass  and  vater  for 
five  horses  at  a  shilling  a  veek  each.  My  friend,  if 
dose  horses  had  not  gone  to  Dotswood  dey  would  haf 
died  here." 

"  All  right,"  said  Rody,  putting  the  bill  in  his 
pocket  and  turning  to  go,  "as  soon  as  Doyle  and 
Patterson's  stuff  goes  through,  our  crushing  follows. 
They  start  to-day." 

"  Veil,  I  hopes  ve  do  some  good,"  snorted  Cohen, 
as  he  sat  down  to  his  accounts. 

"  What  the  blazes  is  that  for  ?  "  said  Buller,  as  late 
on  Thursday  night  Rody  came  into  the  hut  and 
dumped  a  small  but  extremely  heavy  parcel,  tied  up  in 
a  piece  of  bagging,  down  on  the  table. 

Rody  cut  the  string  that  tied  it,  and  the  mates  saw 
that  it  contained  a  compact  roll  of  sheet  lead  and  a 
farrier's  rasp. 

"  Never  you  mind  ;  I  know  what  I'm  doing. 
Now,  boys,  we're  got  to  slog  into  that  mullocky  stuff 


196  The  Great  Crushing 

at  Mason's  all  next  week,  and  look  jolly  mysterious 
if  any  of  the  chaps  tell  us  we're  only  bullocking  for 
nothing." 

A  light  began  to  dawn  on  Durham  as  he  looked  at 
the  rasp  and  lead  ;  a  few  days  before  he  had  seen 
Rody  bringing  home  an  old  worn-out  blacksmith's 
vice  that  he  had  picked  up  somewhere,  and  stow  it 
under  his  bunk. 

Taking  up  the  articles  again,  Rody  stowed  them 
away,  and  then  drew  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said. 

Durham  took  it  up  and  read  aloud — 

"  DOTSWOOD  STATION,  BURDEKIN  RIVER, 

"7««*7,  1 88— . 

"  DEAR  SIR — In  reply  to  your  note,  I  beg  to  state 
that  no  horses  with  the  brands  described  by  you  have 
ever  been  received  on  this  station  from  Mr.  Isaac 
Cohen,  nor  any  other  person. 

"  Yours,  &c., 

"WALTER  D.  JOYCE, 

"MR.  RODY  MINOGUE,  "Manager. 

"  Sugar-bag" 

"  The  thundering  old  sweep  !  Why,  we  could  jail 
him  for  this,"  said  Durham.  "  Are  you  quite  sure 
about  his  using  them  ever  since  he  took  delivery  of 
them  ?  " 

"  Quite  ;  I  can  bring  a  dozen  people  to  prove  that 
the  two  pack-horses  have  been  running  in  the 
Charters  Towers  coach  for  the  past  six  months,  and 
the  three  saddle-horses  have  been  carrying  the  Bowen 
mail  from  Townsville  for  five  months." 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  197 

Durham  thumped  his  fist  on  the  table.  "  I  wish  we 
could  get  him  to  tell  us  before  a  witness  that  the 
horses  were  at  Dotswood." 

"  We  needn't  bother  ;  this  is  better,"  and  Rody, 
taking  out  Cohen's  account,  read — 

"  To  32  weeks'  agistment  for  5  horses  at  Dotswood 
Station,  at  is.  per  week — j£8." 

"  That's  lovely,  Rody.     We've  got  him  now." 

For  the  next  week  or  so  the  three  mates  worked 
hard  at  Mason's  and  Crow's  old  shafts,  to  the  wonder 
of  the  rest  of  the  diggers  at  Sugar-bag.  And  they 
would  have  been  still  more  surprised  had  they  gone 
one  Sunday  into  a  thick  scrub  about  a  mile  from  the 
camp,  and  seen  Rody  Minogue  fix  an  old  vice  on  a 
stump,  and  spreading  a  bag  beneath  it,  produce  a  rasp, 
and  begin  to  vigorously  file  a  thick  roll  of  lead  into 
fine  shavings,  that  fell  like  a  shower  of  silver  spray 
upon  the  bag  beneath. 

Rody  spent  the  best  part  of  the  day  in  the  scrub. 
He  had  brought  his  dinner,  and  enjoyed  his  laborious 
task.  As  soon  as  it  was  finished  he  carefully  poured 
the  bright  filings  into  a  canvas  bag,  and  threw  the 
vice  and  rasp  far  into  the  scrub.  Then,  just  at  dusk, 
he  carried  the  heavy  bag  home  unobserved. 

That  night,  as  they  turned  in,  he  said  to  his 
mates — 

"  We  must  all  be  up  at  old  Ikey's  to-morrow  night, 
boys,  to  see  the  mailman  come  in.  I  think  we  are 
pretty  sure  to  get  Jim  Kettle's  wire  to-night.  I  asked 
him  to  send  it  at  once." 

It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  although  there  was 
no  telegraph  station  at  Sugar-bag,  there  was  at  Big 


198  The  Great  Crushing 

Boulder,  a  small  but  thriving  mining  township  five 
miles  away,  and  telegrams  sent  to  any  one  at  Sugar-bag 
were  sent  on  by  the  postmaster  at  Big  Boulder  by 
Dick  the  mailman. 

"Here's  Dick  the  mailman  coming1!"  and  the 
crowd  of  diggers  that  sat  in  Ikey  Cohen's  bar  lounged 
outside  to  see  him  dismount. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  came  inside,  and  first  handing 
the  small  bag  that  contained  the  Sugar-bag  mail  to 
Mr.  Cohen,  who  at  once,  by  virtue  of  his  office, 
proceeded  to  open  it  and  sort  out  the  few  letters,  he 
went  to  the  bar  at  Buller's  invitation  for  a  drink. 

"  How  are  you,  boys  ?  How  goes  it,  Rody  ?  I'll 
take  a  rum,  please  Missis.  How's  the  claim  shapin', 
Durham  ?  " 

"Here's  a  delegram  for  you,"  said  Ikey,  handing  the 
missive  to  Durham,  and  wishing  that  he  could  have 
kept  it  back  till  the  morning,  so  as  to  have  made 
himself  acquainted  with  its  contents. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Durham.  "  I  wonder  who  it's 
from  ?  " 

"  No  bad  news,  Harry,  is  there  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Ikey, 
sympathetically  ;  "  you  look  very  serious." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  it's  from  Jimmy  Kettle  ;  he  and  I  and 
Tom  Gurner — who  went  to  South  Africa — used  to  be 
mates  on  the  Etheridge;"  and  without  further  explana- 
tion he  walked  away,  accompanied  by  Rody  and 
Buller. 

.  .  •  • 

Early  next  morning,  as  Mr.  Cohen  opened  his  store 
and  pub.,  Durham  walked  in. 

"Look  here,  Cohen,  I  want  to  sell  out  and  get 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  199 

away.  Will  you  give  me  something  for  my  horse, 
and  ten  pounds  for  my  share  in  the  crushing  ?  Rody 
can't  do  it,  of  course  ;  neither  can  Buller." 

"  No,  I  von't,"  said  Mr.  Cohen ;  "  I  ain't  going  to 
throw  away  any  more  money.  Vere  do  you  want  to 
go  to  ?  " 

Durham,  with  a  gloomy  face,  handed  him  the 
telegram  he  had  received.  It  ran  as  follows : — 

"From  JAMES  KETTLE,  Adelong. 

"  To  HENRY  DURHAM,  Sugar-bag,  N.Q 

"  Tom  Gurner  returned.     Has  done  well.     Wants 

you  and  me  to  go  back  South  Africa  with  him.    Will 

stand  the  racket  for  passage  money.     Steamer  leaves 

Sydney  in  four  weeks.    Hurry  up  and  join  us." 

"  Can't  you  give  me  a  lift  at  all  ?  "  said  Durham, 
after  Cohen  had  read  the  telegram. 

"  No,  I  can't." 

"  Then  blarst  you,  don't !  I'll  foot  it  to  Townsville, 
you  infernal  old  skunk." 

Sure  enough  that  day  he  did  leave,  but  not  on  foot, 
for  some  one  lent  him  a  horse,  to  be  returned  by  the 
mailman.  Rody  accompanied  him  part  of  the  way 
and  gave  him  some  final  instructions. 

On  the  day  that  Durham  reached  Townsville  Rody 
and  Buller  began  crushing  their  stone  at  the  mill. 
The  forty  tons  of  stone  were  to  go  through  first,  and 
were  to  be  followed  by  the  stuff  from  Mason's  and 
Crow's  old  claims,  which  had  been  carted  down  to 
the  mill.  As  Rody  surmised,  the  stone  showed  for 
about  ten  pennyweights,  and  the  second  day,  about 


aoo  The  Great  Crushing 

dusk,  they  "  cleaned  up,"  squeezed  the  amalgam  into 
balls,  and  placed  it  in  an  enamelled  dish,  ready  for 
retorting. 

"  Four  of  these  will  do  us,"  said  Rody,  taking  out 
that  number  of  balls  of  amalgam,  pressing  them  into 
a  flat  shape,  and  thrusting  them  into  his  trousers 
pockets  ;  "  here's  that  old  swine  Ikey  coming  now  to 
see  if  we  are  robbing  him." 

"  Veil,  how  does  she  look  ?  "  inquired  Cohen. 

Rody,  with  a  face  of  gloom,  pointed  to  the  amalgam 
in  the  dish.  "  It'll  go  about  ten  pennyweights,"  he 
said,  "  but  we're  going  to  start  on  that  other  stuff 
to-morrow.  It's  patchy,  but  I  believe  there's  more  in 
it  than  there  was  in  the  quartz." 

"  Veil,  vat  are  you  going  to  do  with  this  amalgam  ? 
Von't  you  redord  (retort)  it  now  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Rody,  "  it's  not  worth  while 
having  two  retortings.  Take  it  away  with  you — 
you  have  the  best  right  to  it — and  lock  it  up.  Then, 
as  soon  as  we  have  put  this  mullocky  stuff  through,  we 
will  retort  the  lot  together.  It  won't  take  long 
running  that  stuff  through  the  battery — it's  soft  as 
butter." 

Then,  after  carefully  weighing  the  amalgam,  Rody 
handed  it  over  to  Mr.  Cohen  for  safe  keeping,  and  he 
and  Buller  went  up  to  their  humpy  for  the  night. 
But  before  they  bade  Mr.  Cohen  good-night,  Rody 
wrote  out  a  few  words  on  a  slip  of  paper,  and  handed 
it  to  Ikey,  with  a  two-shilling  piece. 

"  Send  that  along  to  Big  Boulder  by  any  one  passing, 
will  you  ?  I  told  Durham  I'd  send  him  a  wire.  He 
won't  leave  Townsville  until  to-morrow.  The 
steamer  goes  at  four  in  the  afternoon  to-morrow." 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  201 

When  Mr.  Cohen  got  home  he  read  Rody's  message, 
which  was  brief,  but  explicit — 

"  Crushing  going  badly  ;  not  ten  weights.  Mul- 
lock may  go  as  much  or  more." 

At  eight  o'clock  next  morning  Rody  and  Buller 
were  ready  to  feed  their  second  lot  of  stone  into  the 
boxes.  At  Rody's  suggestion  the  mill  manager,  who 
was  also  the  engine  driver  (and  who  employed  but  two 
Chinamen  to  feed  and  empty  the  sludge  pits  in  connec- 
tion with  the  wretched  old  machine),  put  on  very  old 
coarse  screens  ;  and  whilst  he  was  engaged  in  doing 
this,  Rody  stowed  a  certain  small  but  heavy  canvas  bag 
in  a  conveniently  accessible  spot  near  the  battery 
boxes. 

As  soon  as  the  screens  were  fixed,  old  Joe  Fryer 
came  round  and  started  the  engine,  whilst  Rody 
"fed"  and  Buller  attended  to  the  tables  and 
blankets. 

"We'll  feed  her,  Fryer,"  said  Rody.  "These 
Chinkies  are  right  enough  with  hard  stone,  but  they're 
no  good  with  mucky  stuff  like  this.  They'd  have  the 
boxes  choked  in  no  time." 

Fryer  was  quite  agreeable,  and  as  soon  as  he  turned 
away  to  attend  to  the  furnace  Rody  seized  the  canvas 
bag  and  poured  about  a  quart  of  the  lead  filings  into 
the  box.  At  the  same  time,  Buller  came  round  from 
the  tables  with  a  cupful  of  quicksilver,  and  poured 
that  in.  This  was  done  at  frequent  intervals. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Buller  came  round  to  Rody 
and  said,  in  Fryer's  hearing,  that  the  amalgam  was 
showing  pretty  thick  on  the  plates. 

Fryer  went  to  look  at  it,  naturally  feeling  pleased  at 


202  The  Great  Crushing 

such  good  news.  In  a  minute  he  was  back  again,  and 
seizing  Rody  by  the  hand,  his  dirty  old  face  beaming 
with  excitement. 

"  By  Jingo  !     You  fellows  have  struck  it  this  time. 

I  haven't  seen  anything  like  it  since  the  time  Billy 

Mason  and  George  Boys  put  ten  loads  of  stuff  like  this 

through  and  got  four  hundred  ounces.    And  look  here, 

his  stuff  of  yours  is  going  to  be  as  good." 

"  Well,  look  here,  Fryer,"  said  Rody,  modestly, "  1 
may  as  well  tell  you  that  I  somehow  thought  it  was 
pretty  right.  And  I  believe  we've  just  dropped  on 
such  another  patch  as  Mason  and  Boys  did  in  '72." 

Buller  by  this  time  was  apparently  as  much  excited 
as  old  Fryer,  ajnd  was  now  sweeping  the  amalgam  off 
the  plates  with  a  rubber,  like  a  street  scraper  sweeps 
up  mud — in  great  stiff"  ridges — and  dropping  it  into  an 
enamelled  bucket.  And  every  time  that  Fryer  was 
out  of  sight  shoving  a  log  of  wood  into  the  furnace, 
Rody  would  pour  another  quart  of  lead  filings  in  the 
feed-box,  and  Buller  would  follow  with  a  pint  of 
quicksilver. 

"Lucky  we  got  him  to  put  on  those  old  worn 
screens,"  muttered  Rody  to  Buller,  "the  cursed  stuff 
is  beginning  to  clog  the  boxes  as  it  is." 

At  last,  there  being  no  more  lead  left  and  but  little 
quicksilver,  the  stampers  worked  with  more  freedom, 
and  in  another  hour  Rody  flung  down  his  shovel — the 
final  shovelful  of  mullock  had  gone  into  the  box. 

"  I'll  help  you  clean  up  as  soon  as  I  draw  my  fire," 
said  old  Fryer.  "By  thunder,  boys,  what'll  the  chaps 
say  when  they  see  this  ?  What  about  old  Sugar-bag 
being  played  out,  eh  ?  " 

Fortunately  for  Rody  and  his  partner  the  mill  was 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  203 

a  good  two  miles  away  from  the  main  camp,  there 
being  no  nearer  water  available,  and  no  one  had 
troubled  to  come  down  to  see  how  the  crushing  was 
going,  except  one  Micky  Foran,  who  had  carted 
their  stone  down  from  the  claim.  But  when  Micky 
saw  Fryer  and  Rody  go  round  to  the  back  of  the 
boxes,  lift  the  apron,  and  take  off  the  screens,  he 
gave  a  yell  that  could  have  been  heard  a  mile  : 

"  Holy  Saints,  it  looks  like  a  grotto  filled  wid  silver ! " 

And  so  it  did,  for  the  whole  of  the  sides  of  the  box, 
the  stampers,  and  dies  were  covered  with  a  coating  of 
amalgam  some  inches  thick  and  as  hard  as  cement. 

In  five  minutes  Micky  was  galloping  up  to  the 
camp  with  the  glorious  news  of  Sugar-bag's  resurrec- 
tion, leaving  Fryer,  Buller  and  Rody  hard  at  work 
digging  out  the  amalgam  with  cold  chisels  and  butcher 
knives. 

By  the  time  the  boxes  had  been  cleaned,  and  the 
quicksilver — or  rather  amalgam — scooped  up  from  the 
wells,  and  the  whole  lot  placed  in  various  dishes  and 
buckets,  the  excited  population  of  Sugar-bag  began  to 
appear  upon  the  scene.  Among  them  was  Mr. 
Cohen,  who  advanced  to  Rody  with  a  smile. 

"Veil,  my  boy,  you've  struck  id  and  no  misdake. 
I  knew  you  vas  a  good " 

"  Oh,  to  blazes  out  o'  this ! "  said  Mr.  Minogue, 
roughly.  "  I  don't  want  any  of  your  dashed  blarney. 
Ten  days  ago  you  wouldn't  give  poor  Harry  Durham 
a  fiver  to  take  him  to  the  bay,  and  here  you  come 
crawling  round  me,  now  that  our  luck  has  changed. 
Go  to  the  devil  with  you  !  I  can  pay  you  your  dirty 
seventy  quid  now  and  be  hanged  to  you  !  " 

And  with  this  he  pushed  his  way  over  to  where 


204  The  Great  Crushing 

Fryer  and  Buller  were,  keeping  guard  over  the  white 
gleaming  masses  of  precious  amalgam. 

"  Going  to  retort  it  now,  Rody  ? "  said  a  digger. 

"  No  ;  we  can't.  There  isn't  a  retort  big  enough 
to  hold  a  quarter  of  the  hard  stuff,  let  alone  the  quick- 
silver, which  is  as  lumpy  as  porridge,  as  you  can  see," 
and  he  lifted  some  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  out  of  a 
bucket.  We'll  have  to  send  over  to  Big  Boulder  for 
Jones'  two  big  retorts." 

"  Boys,"  said  a  digger,  solemnly,  "  so  help  me,  I 
believe  there's  a  thousand  ounces  of  gold  going  to 
come  out  of  that  there  amalgam.  What  do  you  think, 
Rody  ?  " 

"  About  eight  hundred,"  he  answered,  modestly  ;  and 
Ikey  Cohen  metaphorically  smote  his  breast  and 
wished  he  had  lent  Durham  all  he  asked  for. 

Placing  the  amalgam  in  the  big  box  Fryer  kept  for 
the  purpose,  Rody  was  about  to  lock  it,  when  some 
one  made  a  remark — just  the  very  remark  he  wanted 
to  hear  and  be  heard  by  Isaac  Cohen,  who  was  still 
hanging  about  him. 

"  Sometimes  there's  a  lot  of  silver  in  these  mullocky 
leaders.  I  heard  that  at  the  Canton  Reef,  near 
Ravenswood,  there  was  a  terrible  lot  of  it." 

"  Oh,  shut  up  !  What  y'r  gassin'  about  ?  There 
ain't  no  silver  about  this  field,  I  bet,"  called  out  two 
or  three  miners  in  a  chorus. 

Rody's  face  fell.  "By  jingo,  boys,  I  don't  know. 
Perhaps  Joe  is  right.  I've  seen  Canton  Reef  gold, 
it's  only  worth  about  twenty-five  bob  an  ounce  owing 
to  the  silver  in  it." 

"  Try  a  bit  of  amalgam  on  a  shovel,"  suggested 
some  one. 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  205 

Rody  lifted  the  cover  of  the  box  and  took  out  a 
small  enamelled  cup  half  full  of  hard  amalgam — the 
contents  of  his  trousers  pockets  surreptitiously  placed 
with  the  rest  while  cleaning  up. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  fire  was  lit  and  a  shovel  with  an 
ounce  of  amalgam  on  it  was  held  over  the  flame.  As 
the  shovel  grew  red  hot  and  the  quicksilver  passed 
away  in  vapour  there  lay  on  the  heated  iron  about 
eight  pennyweights  of  bright  yellow,  frosted  gold. 

"  Right  as  rain  !  "  was  the  unanimous  opinion,  and 
then  every  one  went  away  to  get  drunk  at  Cohen's 
pub.  in  honour  of  the  occasion. 

"  Vere  are  you  going  to,  Mr.  Minogue  ? "  said 
Cohen,  oilily,  to  Rody. 

"To  Big  Boulder,  to  send  another  wire  to  Durham 
and  tell  him  to  come  back." 

"  My  friend,  you  will  be  foolish.  Now  you  and 
me  vill  talk  pizness.  I  vant  to  buy  Mr.  Durham  out. 
If  you  vill  help  me  to  ged  his  inderest  in  the  crushing 
sheap  I  will  call  my  ackound  square  and  give  you — 
veil,  I  will  give  you  ^200  for  yourself." 

Rody  appeared  to  hesitate.  At  last  he  said,  "  Well, 
I'll  do  it.  I'll  wire  him  that  the  stuff  is  going  about 
two  ounces,  and  that  you  want  to  buy  him  out.  I'll 
tell  him  to  take  what  you  offer.  But  at  the  same 
time  I  won't  see  him  done  too  bad.  Give  him  £200 
as  well." 

"  No,  I  vill  give  him  £150." 

"  All  right.  I'll  wire  to  him  at  once.  The 
steamer  goes  to-morrow." 

"And  I  rides  in  with  you  to  Big  Boulder  and  sends 
him  a  delegram,  too,"  said  I  key  joyfully. 


206  The  Great  Crushing 

In  another  hour  the  two  messages  were  in  Harry 
Durham's  hand.  He  read  them  and  smiled. 

"  Rody's  managed  it  all  right." 

At  five  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Cohen  received  an 
answer — 

"  Will  sell  you  my  interest  in  the  Claribel  crushing, 
now  going  through,  for  ^150  if  money  is  wired  to 
Bank  New  South  Wales  before  noon  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Cohen  wired  it,  grinning  to  himself  the  while 
as  he  thought  of  the  rich  mass  of  amalgam  lying  in 
Fryer's  box.  Nothing  much  under  ^350  would  be 
his  share,  even  after  paying  Rody  ^200,  in  addition  to 
Durham's  ^150. 

There  was  a  great  attendance  to  see  the  retorts 
opened  two  days  afterwards,  and  Mr.  Cohen  went  into 
a  series  of  fits  when  the  opening  of  the  largest  cylinder 
revealed  nothing  but  a  black  mass  of  charred  nastiness 
(the  result  of  the  lead  filings),  and  the  other  (which 
contained  the  amalgam  from  the  first  crushing) 
showed  only  a  little  gold — less  than  twenty  ounces. 

Of  course  he  wanted  to  do  something  desperate,  but 
Rody  took  him  aside,  and  showing  him  certain 
documents  concerning  horses,  said — 

"  Now,  look  here  ;  you  had  better  let  things  alone. 
It's  better  for  you  to  lose  ^350  than  go  to  gaol.  This 
crushing  is  a  great  disappointment  to  me  as  well  as 
you.  We've  both  been  had  badly  over  it." 

It  was  not  many  weeks  before  the  three  mates  met 
again  in  Sydney,  Durham  having  wired  them  half  of 
the  j£i50  sent  him  by  Ikey  Cohen  before  he  left 
Townsville,  not  knowing  that  they  had  got  ^200  out 


at  Mount  Sugar-Bag.  207 

of  Ikey  themselves.  And  about  a  year  later  Rody 
sent  Mrs.  Cohen  a  letter  enclosing  the  amount  of  old 
Fryer's  bill  for  crushing,  and  j£8o  from  himself  and 
mates  for  Ikey.  "  Tell  him,  Polly,  that  he  can  keep 
the  horses  for  the  jCjo  against  us.  The  money  he 
sent  to  Harry  Durham — to  swindle  him  out  of  that 
rich  crushing,  and  what  he  gave  Buller  and  me — set 
us  on  our  legs.  We  have  been  doing  very  well  at  the 
Thames  here,  in  New  Zealand,  since  we  left  Sugar- 
bag.  Of  course  you  can  please  yourself  as  to  whether 
you  give  him  the  j£8o  or  keep  it  yourself.  And  if 
you  send  us  a  receipt  signed  by  yourself,  it  will  do  us 
just  as  well  as  his,  and  please  in  particular  your  old 
friend,  RODY  MINOGUE." 


THE  SHADOWS  OF  THE  DEAD 


'5 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead 


"  IT  is  bad  to  speak  of  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  when 
their  shadows  may  be  near,"  said  Tulpe,  the  professed 
Christian,  but  pure,  unsophisticated  heathen  at  heart ; 
"  no  one  but  a  fool — or  a  careless  white  man  such  as 
thee,  Tenisoni — would  do  that." 

Denison  laughed,  but  Kusis,  the  stalwart  husband 
of  black-browed  Tulpe,  looked  at  him  with  grave 
reproval,  and  said  in  English,  as  he  struck  his  paddle 
into  the  water — 

"Tulpe  speak  true,  Mr.  Denison.  This  place  is 
a  bad  place  at  night-time,  suppose  you  no  make  fire 
before  you  sleep.  Plenty  men — white  men — been  die 
here,  and  now  us  native  people  only  come  here  when 
plenty  of  us  come  together.  Then  we  not  feel  much 
afraid.  Oh,  yes,  these  two  little  island  very  bad  places ; 
long  time  ago  many  white  men  die  here  in  the  night. 
And  sometimes,  if  any  man  come  here  and  sleep  by 
himself,  he  hear  the  dead  white  men  walk  about  and 
cry  out." 

They — Denison,  the  supercargo  of  the  Leonora, 
Kusis,  the  head  man  of  the  village  near  by  and  Tulpe, 


2 1 2  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

his  wife,  and  little  Kinia,  their  daughter — had  been 
out  fishing  on  the  reef,  but  had  met  with  but  scant 
success  ;  for  in  the  deep  coral  pools  that  lay  between 
the  inner  and  outer  reefs  of  the  main  island  were 
hundreds  of  huge  blue  and  gold  striped  leather-jackets, 
which  broke  their  hooks  and  bit  their  lines.  So  they 
had  ceased  awhile,  that  they  might  rest  till  nightfall 
upon  one  of  two  little  islets  of  palms,  that  like  floating 
gardens  raised  their  verdured  heights  from  the  deep 
waters  of  the  slumbering  lagoon. 

Slowly  they  paddled  over  the  glassy  surface,  and  as 
the  little  craft  cut  her  way  noiselessly  through  the 
water,  the  dying  sun  turned  the  slopes  of  vivid  green 
on  Mont  Buache  to  changing  shades  on  gold  and  purple 
light,  and  the  dark  blue  of  the  water  of  the  reef-bound 
lagoon  paled  and  shallowed  and  turned  to  bright 
transparent  green  with  a  bottom  of  shining  snow- 
white  sand — over  which  swift  black  shadows  swept  as 
startled  fish  fled  seaward  in  affright  beneath  the  slender 
hull  of  the  light  canoe.  Then  as  the  last  booming 
notes  of  the  great  grey-plumaged  mountain-pigeons 
echoed  through  the  forest  aisles,  the  sun  touched  the 
western  sea-rim  in  a  flood  of  misty  golden  haze,  and 
plunging  their  paddles  together  in  a  last  stroke  they 
grounded  upon  the  beach  of  a  lovely  little  bay,  scarce 
a  hundred  feet  in  curve  from  point  to  point ;  and 
whilst  Kusis  and  Tulpe  lit  a  fire  to  cook  some  fish 
for  the  white  man,  Denison  clambered  to  the  summit 
of  the  island  and  looked  shoreward  upon  the  purpling 
outline  of  the  mainland  a  league  away. 

Half  a  mile  distant  he  could  see  the  sharp  peaks  of 
the  grey-thatched  houses  in  Leasse  village  still  standing 
out  plainly  in  the  dear  atmosphere,  and  from  every 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  2 1 3 

house  a  slender  streak  of  pale  blue  smoke  rose  straight 
up  skywards,  for  the  land-breeze  had  not  yet  risen, 
and  the  smoky  haze  of  the  rollers  thundering  west- 
ward hung  like  a  filmy  mantle  of  white  over  long, 
long  lines  of  curving  reef.  Far  inland,  the  great 
southern  spur  of  the  mountain  that  the  Frenchman 
Duperrey  had  named  Buache,  had  cloaked  its  sides  in 
the  shadows  of  the  night,  though  its  summit  yet  blazed 
with  the  last  red  shafts  of  gold  from  the  sunken  sun. 
And  over  the  tops  of  the  drooping  palms  of  the  little 
isle,  Denison  heard  the  low  cries  and  homeward  flight 
of  ocean-roving  birds  as  they  sped  shoreward  to  their 
rookeries  among  the  dense  mangrove  shrubs  behind 
Leasse.  Some  pure  white,  red-footed  boatswain  birds, 
whose  home  was  among  the  foliage  of  the  two 
islets,  fluttered  softly  about  as  they  sank  like  flakes  of 
felling  snow  among  the  branches  of  the  palms  and  bread- 
fruit trees  around  him.  All  day  long  had  they  hovered 
high  in  air  above  the  sweeping  roll  of  the  wide  Pacific, 
and  one  by  one  they  were  coming  back  to  rest,  and 
Denison  could  see  their  white  forms  settling  down  on 
the  drooping  palm-branches,  to  rise  with  flapping  wing 
and  sharp,  fretful  croak  as  some  belated  wanderer 
fluttered  noiselessly  down  and  pushed  his  way  to  a 
perch  amidst  his  companions,  to  nestle  together  till  the 
bright  rays  of  sunlight  lit  up  the  ocean  blue  once 
more. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  beach  stood  a  tiny 
thatched  roofed  house  with  sides  open  to  welcome  the 
cooling  breath  of  the  land-breeze  that,  as  the  myriad 
stars  came  out,  stole  down  from  the  mountains  to  the 
islet  trees  and  then  rippled  the  waters  of  the  shining 
lagoon. 


214  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

The  house  had  been  built  by  the  people  of  Leasse, 
who  used  it  as  a  rest-house  when  engaged  in  fishing  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  village.  Rolled  up  and  placed  over 
the  cross-beams  were  a  number  of  soft  mats,  and  as 
Denison  returned  Kusis  took  these  down  and  placed 
them  upon  the  ground,  which  was  covered  with  a 
thick  layer  of  pebbles.  Throwing  himself  down  on 
the  mats,  Denison  filled  his  pipe  and  smoked,  while 
Tulpe  and  the  child  made  an  oven  of  heated  stones  to 
cook  the  fish  they  had  caught.  Kusis  had  already 
plucked  some  young  drinking  coconuts,  and  Denison 
heard  their  heavy  fall  as  he  threw  them  to  the  ground. 
And  only  that  Kusis  had  brave  blood  in  his  veins, 
they  had  had  nothing  to  drink  that  night,  for  no 
Strong's  Islander  would  ascend  a  coconut  tree  there 
after  dark,  for  devils,  fiends,  goblins,  the  ghosts  of 
men  long  dead,  and  evil  spirits  flitted  to  and  fro  amid 
the  boscage  of  the  islet  once  night  had  fallen.  And 
even  Kusis,  despite  the  long  years  he  had  spent  among 
white  men  in  his  cruises  in  American  whaleships  in 
his  younger  days,  chid  his  wife  and  child  sharply  for 
not  hastening  to  him  and  carrying  the  nuts  away  as 
they  fell. 

Then,  as  Denison  and  Kusis  waited  for  the  oven  to 
be  opened,  Tulpe  and  Kinia  came  inside  the  hut 
and  sat  down  beside  them,  and  listened  to  Kusis  telling 
the  white  man  of  a  deep,  sandy-bottomed  pool,  near 
to  the  islets,  which,  when  the  tide  came  in  over  the 
reef  at  night-time,  became  filled  with  big  fish,  which 
preyed  upon  the  swarms  of  minnows  that  made  the 
pool  their  home. 

"'Tis  there,  Tenisoni,  that  we  shall  go  when  we 
have  eaten,"  he  said,  and  he  dropped  his  voice  to  a 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  21  $ 

whisper,  "  and  there  shall  we  tell  thee  the  story  of  the 
dead  white  men." 

So,  when  the  fish  was  cooked,  Tulpe  and  Kinia 
hurriedly  took  it  from  the  oven  and  carried  it  to  the 
canoe,  in  which  they  all  sat  and  ate,  and  then  pushing 
out  into  the  lagoon  again  they  paddled  slowly  along 
in  shallow  water  till  Denison  saw  the  white  sandy 
sides  of  a  deep,  dark  pool  glimmering  under  the  star- 
light of  the  island  night.  Softly  the  girl  Kinia 
lowered  the  stone  anchor  down  till  it  touched  bottom 
two  fathoms  below,  on  the  very  edge  ;  and  then  payed 
out  the  kellick  line  whilst  her  father  backed  the  canoe 
out  from  the  quickly  shelving  sides  into  the  centre, 
where  she  lay  head-on  to  the  gentle  current. 

For  many  hours  they  fished,  and  soon  the  canoe 
was  half-filled  with  great  pink  and  pearly-hued  groper 
and  blue-backed,  silver-sided  sea  salmon,  and  then 
Denison,  wearying  of  the  sport,  stretched  himself 
upon  the  outrigger  and  smoked  whilst  Tulpe  told 
him  of  the  tale  of  the  white  men  who  had  once  lived 
and  died  on  the  little  islets. 

"  'Twas  long  before  the  time  that  the  two  French 
fighting-ships  came  here  and  anchored  in  this  harbour 
of  Leasse.  Other  ships  had  come  to  Kusaie,1  and 
white  men  had  come  ashore  at  Lela  and  spoken  with 
the  king  and  chiefs,  and  made  presents  of  friendship 
to  them,  and  been  given  turtle  and  hogs  in  return. 
This  was  long  before  my  mother  was  married,  and 
then  this  place  of  Leasse,  which  is  now  so  poor,  and 
hath  but  so  few  people  in  it,  was  a  great  town,  the 
houses  of  which  covered  all  the  flat  land  between  the 
two  points  of  the  bay.  She,  too,  was  named  as  I  am 
1  Strong's  Island. 


2 1 6  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead 

— Tulpe — and  came  from  a  family  that  lived  under 
the  strong  arm  of  the  king  at  Lela,  where  they  had 
houses  and  many  plantations.  In  those  days  there 
were  three  great  chiefs  on  Kusaie,  one  at  Lela,  from 
where  my  mother  came,  one  at  Utwe,  and  one  here 
at  Leasse.  Peace  had  been  between  them  all  for 
nearly  two  years,  so,  when  the  news  came  here  that 
there  were  two  ships  at  anchor  in  the  king's  harbour, 
many  of  the  people  of  Leasse  went  thither  in  their 
canoes  to  see  the  strangers,  for  these  ships  were  the 
first  the  people  had  seen  for,  it  may  have  been,  twenty 
years.  Among  those  that  went  from  Leasse  was  a 
young  man  named  Kasi-lak — Kasi  the  big  or  strong, 
for  he  was  the  tallest  and  strongest  man  on  this  side  of 
the  island,  and  a  great  wrestler.  There  were  in  all 
nearly  two  hundred  men  and  women  went  from 
Leasse,  and  when  they  reached  the  narrow  passage  to 
Lela,  they  saw  that  the  harbour  was  covered  with 
canoes  full  of  the  people  from  the  great  town  there. 
These  clustered  about  the  ships  so  thickly  that  those 
that  came  from  Leasse  could  not  draw  near  enough  to 
them  to  look  at  the  white  men,  so  they  rested  on 
their  paddles  and  waited  awhile.  Presently  there  came 
out  upon  a  high  part  of  the  ship  a  chief  whose  name  was 
Malik.  He  was  the  king's  foster-brother,  and  a  great 
fighting-man,  and  was  hated  by  the  people  of  Leasse 
for  having  ravaged  all  the  low-lying  country  from  the 
mountains  to  the  shore  ten  years  before,  slaying 
women  and  children  as  well  as  men,  and  casting  their 
bodies  into  the  flames  of  their  burning  houses. 

"  But  now,  because  of  the  peace  that  was  between 
Leasse  and  Lela,  he  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  smile 
of  welcome,  and,  standing  upon  the  high  stern  part  or 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  217 

the  ship,  he  called  out,  *  Welcome,  O  friends!'  and 
bade  them  paddle  their  canoes  to  the  shore,  to  the 
great  houses  of  the  king,  his  brother,  where  they 
would  be  made  welcome,  and  where  food  would  be 
prepared  for  them  to  eat. 

"  So,  much  as  they  desired  to  go  on  board  the  ships, 
they  durst  not  offend  such  a  man  as  Malik,  and 
paddled  to  the  shore,  where  they  were  met  by  the 
king's  slaves,  who  drew  their  canoes  high  up  on  the 
beach,  and  covered  them  with  mats  to  protect  them 
from  the  sun,  and  then  the  king  himself  came  to  meet 
them  with  fair  words  and  smiles  of  friendship. 

"'Welcome,  O  men  of  Leasse,'  he  said.  'See,  my 
people  have  covered  thy  canoes  with  mats  from  the 
sun,  for  now  that  there  is  no  hate  between  us,  ye  shall 
remain  here  at  Lela  with  me  for  many  days.  And  so 
that  there  shall  be  no  more  blood-letting  between  my 
people  and  thine,  shall  I  give  every  young  man  among 
ye  that  is  yet  unmarried  a  wife  from  these  people  of 
mine.  Come,  now,  and  eat  and  drink.' 

"So  all  the  two  hundred  sat  down  in  one  of  the 
king's  houses,  and  while  they  ate  and  drank  there 
came  boats  from  the  ships,  and  the  white  men,  whom 
Malik  led  ashore,  came  into  the  house  where  they  sat, 
and  spoke  to  them.  In  those  days  there  were  but 
three  or  four  of  the  Kusaie  men  who  understood 
English,  and  these  Malik  kept  by  him,  so  that  he 
could  put  words  into  their  mouths  when  he  desired  to 
speak  to  the  white  strangers.  These  white  men,  so 
my  mother  said,  wore  short,  broad-bladed  swords  in 
sheaths  made  of  thick  black  skins,  and  pistols  were 
thrust  through  belts  of  skin  around  their  waists. 
Their  hair,  too,  was  dressed  like  that  of  the  men  of 


218  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

Kusaie — it  hung  down  in  a  short,  thick  roll,  and  was 
tied  at  the  end.1 

"Kasi,  who  was  the  father  of  this  my  husband, 
Kusis,  sat  a  little  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  Leasse 
people.  Beside  him  was  a  young  girl  named  Nehi, 
his  cousin.  She  had  never  before  left  her  home,  and 
the  strange  faces  of  the  men  of  Lela  made  her  so 
frightened  that  she  clung  to  Kasi's  arm  in  fear, 
and  when  the  white  men  came  into  the  house  she 
flung  her  arms  around  her  cousin's  neck  and  laid  her 
face  against  his  naked  chest.  Presently,  as  the  white 
men  walked  to  and  fro  among  the  people,  they 
stopped  in  front  of  Kasi  and  Nehi,  and  one  of  them, 
who  was  the  captain  of  the  largest  of  the  two  ships, 
desired  Kasi  to  stand  up  so  that  he  might  see  his  great 
stature  the  better.  So  he  stood  up,  and  Nehi  the  girl, 
still  clinging  to  his  arm,  stood  up  with  him. 

" 4  He  is  a  brave-looking  man,'  said  the  white  officer 
to  Malik.  *  Such  men  as  he  are  few  and  far  between. 
Only  this  man  here,'  and  he  touched  a  young  white 
man  who  stood  beside  him  on  the  arm,  '  is  his  equal 
in  strength  and  fine  looks.'  And  with  that  the  young 
white  man,  who  was  an  officer  of  the  smaller  of  the 
two  ships,  laughed,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Kasi,  and 
then  his  eyes,  blue,  like  the  deep  sea,  fell  upon  the 
face  of  Nehi,  whose  dark  ones  looked  wonderingly 
into  his. 

" '  Who  is  this  girl  ?  Is  she  the  big  man's  sister  ? ' 
he  asked  of  Malik.  Then  Malik  told  him,  through 
the  mouth  of  one  of  the  three  Kusaie  men,  who  spoke 

1  Several  English  and  French  privateers  cruised  through  the  Caroline 
Islands  between  1804  and  1819.  Fifteen  men  belonging  to  one  of  them 
were  cut  off  by  the  Strong's  Islanders. 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  219 

English,  that  the  girl's  name  was  Nehi,  and  that  with 
many  of  her  people  she  had  come  from  Leasse  to  see 
the  fighting-ships. 

"By  and  by  the  white  men  with  Malik  went 
away  to  talk  and  eat,  and  drank  kava  in  the  house  of 
the  king,  his  brother ;  but  presently  the  younger 
white  man  came  back  with  Rijon,  a  native  who  spoke 
English,  and  sat  down  beside  Kasi  and  his  cousin 
Nehi,  and  talked  with  them  for  a  long  time.  And 
thfs  he  told  them  of  himself.  That  he  was  the  second 
chief  of  the  little  ship,  that  with  but  two  masts ;  and 
because  of  the  long  months  they  had  spent  upon  the 
sea,  and  of  the  bad  blood  between  the  common  sailor 
men  and  the  captain,  he  was  wearied  of  the  ship,  and 
desired  to  leave  it.  Ten  others  were  there  on  his  own 
ship  of  a  like  mind,  and  more  than  a  score  on  the 
larger  ship,  which  had  twenty-and-two  great  cannons 
on  her  deck.  And  then  he  and  Rijon  and  Kasi 
talked  earnestly  together,  and  Kasi  promised  to  aid 
him  ;  and  so  that  Rijon  should  not  betray  them  to 
Malik  or  the  two  captains,  the  young  white  man 
promised  to  give  him  that  night  a  musket  and  a  pistol 
as  an  earnest  of  greater  gifts,  when  he  and  others  with 
him  had  escaped  from  the  ships,  and  were  under  the 
roofs  of  the  men  of  Leasse.  So  then  he  pressed  the 
hand  of  Kasi,  and  again  his  eyes  sought  those  of  Nehi, 
the  girl,  as  he  turned  away. 

"  Then  Rijon,  who  stayed,  drew  near  to  Kasi,  and 
said — 

"  <  What  shall  be  mine  if  I  tell  thee  of  a  plan  that 
is  in  the  mind  of  a  great  man  here  to  put  thee  and  all 
those  of  Leasse  with  thee  to  death  ? ' 

"  «  Who  is  the  man  ?     Is  it  Malik  ? ' 


22O  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

«« It  is  Malik/ 

"  *  Then,'  said  Kasi,  *  help  me  to  escape  from  this 
trap,  and  thou  shalt  be  to  me  as  mine  own  brother ; 
of  all  that  I  possess  half  shall  be  thine.' 

"  And  then  Rijon,  who  was  a  man  who  hated 
bloodshed,  and  thought  it  hard  and  cruel  that  Malik 
should  slay  so  many  unarmed  people  who  came  to 
him  in  peace-time,  swore  to  help  Kasi  in  his  need. 
And  the  girl  Nehi  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  and  wept. 

*'  By  and  by,  when  Rijon  had  gone,  there  came 
into  the  big  house  where  the  people  of  Leasse  were 
assembled  a  young  girl  named  Tulpe —  she  who 
afterwards  became  my  mother.  And  coming  over  to 
where  Kasi  and  his  cousin  sat,  she  told  them  she 
brought  a  message  from  the  king.  That  night,  she 
said,  there  was  to  be  a  great  feast,  so  that  the  white 
men  from  the  ships  might  see  the  dancing  and 
wrestling  that  were  to  follow  ;  and  the  king  had  sent 
her  to  say  that  he  much  desired  the  people  from 
Leasse  to  join  in  the  feasting  and  dancing  ;  and  with 
the  message  he  sent  further  gifts  of  baked  fish  and 
turtle  meat  and  many  baskets  of  fruit. 

"  Kasi,  though  he  knew  well  that  the  king  and 
Malik,  his  brother,  meant  to  murder  him  and  all  his 
people,  smiled  at  the  girl,  and  said,  *  It  is  good  ;  we 
shall  come,  and  I  shall  wrestle  with  the  best  man  ye 
have  here.' 

"  Then  he  struck  the  palm  of  his  hand  on  the  mat 
upon  which  he  sat,  and  said  to  the  girl  Tulpe,  *  Sit 
thou  here,  and  eat  with  us,'  for  he  was  taken  with  her 
looks,  and  wanted  speech  with  her. 

" c  Nay,'  she  said,  with  a  smile,  though  her  voice 
trembled  strangely,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tear?  as 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  221 

she  spoke.  *  Why  ask  me  to  sit  with  thee  when  thou 
hast  so  handsome  a  wife  ?'  And  she  pointed  to  Nehi, 
whose  hand  lay  upon  her  cousin's  arm. 

" c  'Tis  but  my  sister  Nehi,  my  father's  brother's 
child,'  he  answered.  *  No  wife  have  I,  and  none  do  I 
want  but  thee.  What  is  thy  name  ? ' 

"  *  I  am  Tulpe,  the  daughter  of  Malik.' 

"  Then  Kasi  was  troubled  in  his  mind  ;  for  now 
he  hated  Malik,  but  yet  was  he  determined  to  make 
Tulpe  his  wife,  first  because  he  desired  her  for  her 
soft  voice  and  gentle  ways,  and  then  because  she 
might  be  a  shield  for  the  people  of  Leasse  against  her 
father's  vengeance.  So  drawing  her  down  beside  him, 
he  and  Nehi  made  much  of  her  ;  and  Tulpe's  heart 
went  out  to  him  ;  for  he  was  a  man  whose  deeds  as  a 
wrestler  were  known  in  every  village  on  the  island. 
But  still  as  she  tried  to  eat  and  drink  and  to  smile  at 
his  words  of  love,  the  tears  fell  one  by  one,  and  she 
became  very  silent  and  sad  ;  and  presently,  putting 
aside  her  food,  she  leant  her  face  on  Nehi's  shoulder 
and  sobbed. 

" *  Why  dost  thou  weep,  little  one  ?  '  said  Kasi, 
tenderly. 

"  She  made  no  answer  awhile,  but  then  turned  her 
face  to  him. 

" '  Because,  O  Kasi  the  Wrestler,  of  an  evil  dream 
which  came  to  me  in  the  night  as  I  lay  in  my  father's 
house.' 

"  *  Tell  me  thy  dream,'  said  Kasi. 

"  First  looking  around  her  to  see  that  none  but 
themselves  could  hear  her,  she  took  his  hand  in 
hers,  and  whispered — 

tt '  Aye,  Kasi,  I   will   tell  thee.     This,  then,  was 


222  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

my  dream  :  I  saw  the  bodies  of  men  and  women  ana 
children,  whose  waists  were  girt  about  with  red  and 
yellow  girdles  of  oap,  floating  upon  a  pool  of  blood. 
Strange  faces  were  they  all  to  me  in  my  dream,  but 
now  two  of  them  are  not.  And  it  is  for  this  I  weep ; 
for  those  two  faces  were  thine  own  and  that  of  this 
girl  by  my  side.' 

"  Then  Kasi  knew  that  she  meant  to  warn  him  of 
her  father's  cruel  plot,  for  only  the  people  of  Leasse 
wore  girdles  of  the  bark  of  the  plant  called  oap.  So 
then  he  told  her  of  that  which  Rijon  had  spoken,  and 
Tulpe  wept  again. 

" '  It  is  true,'  she  said,  *  and  I  did  but  seek  to  warn 
thee,  for  no  dream  came  to  me  in  the  night ;  yet  do  1 
know  that  even  now  my  father  is  planning  with  hit 
brother  the  king  how  that  they  may  slaughter  thec 
all  to-night  when  ye  sleep  after  the  dance.  What 
can  I  do  to  help  thee  ? ' 

"  They  talked  together  again,  and  planned  what 
should  be  done  ;  and  then  Tulpe  went  quietly  away 
lest  Malik  should  grow  suspicious  of  her.  And  Kasi 
went  quickly  about  among  his  people  telling  them 
of  the  treachery  of  Malik,  and  bade  them  do  what  he 
should  bid  them  when  the  time  came.  And  then 
Rijon  went  to  and  fro  between  Kasi  and  the  big 
white  man,  carrying  messages  and  settling  what 
was  to  be  done. 

"When  darkness  came  great  fires  were  lit  in  the 
dance-house  and  the  town  square,  and  the  great 
feast  began.  And  the  king  and  Malik  made  much 
of  Kasi  and  his  people,  and  placed  more  food  before 
them  than  even  was  given  to  their  own  people.  Then 
when  the  feast  was  finished  the  two  ship  captains  came 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  223 

on  shore,  and  sat  on  a  mat  beside  the  king,  and  the 
women  danced  and  the  men  wrestled.  And  Kasi, 
whose  heart  was  bursting  with  rage  though  his  lips 
smiled,  was  praised  by  Malik  and  the  king  for  his 
great  strength  and  skill,  for  he  overcame  all  who 
stood  up  to  wrestle  with  him. 

"  When  the  night  was  far  gone,  Kasi  told  Malik 
that  he  and  his  people  were  weary,  and  asked  that  they 
might  sleep.  And  Malik,  who  only  waited  till  they 
alept,  said,  '  Go,  and  sleep  in  peace.' 

"  But  as  soon  as  Kasi  and  those  with  him  were 
away  out  of  sight  from  the  great  swarm  of  people  who 
still  danced  and  wrestled  in  the  open  square,  they  ran 
quickly  to  the  beach  where  their  canoes  were  lying, 
and  Kasi  lit  a  torch  and  waved  it  thrice  in  the  air 
towards  the  black  shadows  of  the  two  ships.  Then 
he  waited. 

"  Suddenly  on  the  ships  there  arose  a  great  com- 
motion and  loud  cries,  and  in  a  little  time  there  came 
the  sound  of  boats  rowing  quickly  to  the  shore.  And 
then  came  a  great  flash  of  light  from  the  side  of  one 
of  the  ships  and  the  thunder  of  a  cannon's  voice. 

" '  Quick,'  cried  Kasi ;  *  launch  the  canoes,  lest 
we  be  slain  here  on  the  beach ! '  And  ere  the 
echoes  of  the  cannon-shot  had  died  away  in  the 
mountain  caves  of  Lela,  the  men  of  Leasse  had 
launched  their  canoes  and  paddled  swiftly  out  to 
meet  the  boats. 

"  As  the  boats  and  canoes  drew  near,  Rijon  stood 
up  in  the  bows  of  the  foremost  boat,  and  the  white 
sailors  ceased  rowing  so  that  he  and  Kasi  might  talk. 
But  there  was  but  little  time,  for  already  the  sound  of 
the  cannon  and  the  cries  and  struggling  on  board  the 


224  The  Shadows  of  the  Deaa. 

ships  had  brought  a  great  many  of  the  Lela  people  to 
the  beach  ;  fires  were  lit,  and  conch  shells  were 
blown,  and  Malik  and  his  men  began  to  fire  their 
muskets  at  the  escaping  canoes.  Presently,  too,  the 
white  men  in  the  boats  began  to  handle  their  muskets 
and  fire  back  in  return,  when  their  leader  bade  them 
cease,  telling  them  that  it  was  but  Malik's  men  firing 
at  Kasi's  people. 

" 4  Now,'  said  he  to  Rijon,  '  tell  this  man  Kasi  to 
lead  the  way  with  his  canoes  to  the  passage,  and  we 
in  the  boats  shall  follow  closely,  so  that  if  Malik's 
canoes  pursue  and  overtake  us,  we  white  men  shall 
beat  them  back  with  our  musket-fire.' 

"  So  then  Kasi  turned  his  canoes  seaward,  and  the 
boats  followed  ;  and  as  they  rowed  and  paddled,  all 
keeping  closely  together,  the  great  cannons  of  the  two 
ships  flashed  and  thundered  and  the  shot  roared  above 
them  in  the  darkness.  But  yet  was  no  one  hurt,  for 
the  night  was  very  dark  ;  and  soon  they  reached  the 
deep  waters  of  the  passage,  and  rose  and  fell  to  the 
ocean  swell,  and  still  the  iron  cannon-shot  hummed 
about  them,  and  now  and  again  struck  the  water 
near  j  and  on  the  left-hand  shore  ran  Malik's  men 
with  cries  of  rage,  and  firing  as  they  ran,  till  at  last 
they  came  to  the  point  and  could  pursue  no  farther, 
and  soon  their  cries  grew  fainter  and  fainter  as  the 
canoes  and  boats  reached  the  open  ocean.  Then  it 
happened  that  one  of  the  white  sailors,  vexed  that  a 
last  bullet  had  whistled  near  his  head,  raised  his  musket 
and  fired  into  the  dark  shore  whence  it  came. 

"  *  Thou  fool ! '  cried  his  leader,  and  he  struck  the 
man  senseless  with  the  boat's  tiller,  and  then  told 
Rijon  to  call  out  to  Kasi  and  his  people  to  pull  to  the 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  225 

left  for  their  lives,  for  the  flash  of  the  musket  would 
be  seen  from  the  ships.  Ah,  he  was  a  clever  white 
man,  for  scarce  had  the  canoes  and  boats  turned  to  the 
left  more  than  fifty  fathoms,  when  there  came  a  burst 
of  flame  from  all  the  cannons  on  the  ships,  and  a  great 
storm  of  great  iron  shot  and  small  leaden  bullets 
lashed  the  black  water  into  white  foam  just  behind 
them.  After  that  the  firing  ceased,  and  Rijon  called 
out  that  there  was  no  more  danger  ;  for  the  cunning 
white  man  had  told  him  that  they  could  not  be 
pursued — he  had  broken  holes  in  all  the  boats  that 
remained  on  the  ships. 

"  When  daylight  came,  the  boats  and  canoes  were 
far  down  the  coast  towards  Leasse.  Then,  as  the  sun 
rose  from  the  sea,  the  men  in  the  boats  ceased  rowing, 
and  the  big  white  man  stood  up  and  beckoned  to 
Kasi  to  bring  his  canoe  alongside.  And  when  the 
canoe  lay  beside  the  boat,  the  white  man  laughed 
and  held  out  his  hand  to  Kasi  and  asked  for  Nehi ; 
and  as  Nehi  rose  from  the  bottom  of  Kasi's  canoe, 
where  she  had  been  sleeping,  and  stood  up  beside 
her  cousin,  so  did  Tulpe,  the  daughter  of  Malik, 
stand  up  beside  the  white  man  in  his  boat,  and  the 
two  girls  threw  their  arms  around  each  other's  necks 
and  wept  glad  tears.  Then  as  the  canoes  and  boats 
hoisted  their  sails  to  the  wind  of  sunrise,  the  people 
saw  that  Tulpe  sat  beside  Kasi  in  his  canoe,  and 
Nehi,  his  cousin,  sat  beside  the  white  man  in  his  boat, 
with  her  face  covered  with  her  hands  so  that  no  one 
should  see  her  eyes. 

"As  they  sailed  along  the  coast  Tulpe  told  Kasi 
how  she  and  Rijon  had  gone  on  board  the  smaller  of 
the  two  ships,  and  seen  the  tall  young  white  man 

16 


226  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

whispering  to  some  of  the  sailors.  Then,  when  they 
saw  the  flash  of  Kasi's  torch,  how  these  sailors  sprang 
upon  the  others  and  bound  them  hand  and  foot  while 
a  boat  was  lowered,  and  muskets  and  food  and  water 
put  in.  Then  she  and  Rijon  and  the  young  white 
leader  and  some  of  the  sailors  got  in,  and  Rijon  stood 
in  the  bows  and  guided  them  to  the  shore  to  where 
Kasi  and  his  people  awaited  them  on  the  beach. 

II 

"  FOR  nearly  three  months  these  white  men  lived  at 
Leasse,  and  the  father  of  Kasi,  who  was  chief  of  the 
town,  made  much  of  them,  because  they  had  muskets, 
and  bullets,  and  powder  in  plenty,  and  this  made  him 
strong  against  Malik  and  the  people  of  Lela.  The 
ships  had  sailed  away  soon  after  the  night  of  the  dance, 
but  the  two  captains  had  given  the  king  and  Malik 
many  muskets  and  much  powder,  and  a  small  cannon, 
and  urged  him  to  pursue  and  kill  all  the  white  men 
who  had  deserted  the  ships. 

« «  By  and  by,  I  will  kill  them,'  said  Malik. 

"The  young  white  man  took  Nehi  to  wife,  and 
was  given  a  tract  of  land  near  Leasse,  and  Kasi  became 
husband  to  Tulpe,  and  there  grew  a  great  friendship 
between  the  two  men.  Then  came  warfare  with  Lela 
again,  and  of  the  twenty  and  two  white  men  ten 
were  killed  in  a  great  fight  at  Utwe  with  Malik's 
people,  who  surprised  them  as  they  were  building  a 
vessel,  for  some  of  them  were  already  weary  of  Kusaie, 
and  wished  to  sail  away  to  other  lands. 

"  Soon  those  that  were  left  began  to  quarrel  among 
themselves  and  kill  each  other,  till  only  seven,  beside 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  227 

the  husband  of  Nehi,  were  left.  These,  who  lived  in 
a  village  at  the  south  point,  seldom  came  to  Leasse,  for 
the  big  white  man  would  have  none  of  them,  and 
naught  but  bitter  words  had  passed  between  them  for 
many  months,  for  he  hated  their  wild,  dissolute  ways, 
and  their  foul  manners.  Then,  too,  they  had  learnt 
to  make  grog  from  coconut  toddy,  and  sometimes,  when 
they  were  drunken  with  it,  would  stagger  about  from 
house  to  house,  musket  or  sword  in  hand,  and  frighten 
the  women  and  children. 

"  One  day  it  came  about  that  a  girl  named  Luan, 
who  was  a  blood  relation  of  Nehi,  and  wife  to  one  of 
these  white  men,  was  walking  along  a  mountain-path, 
carrying  her  infant  child,  when  her  foot  slipped,  and 
she  and  the  infant  fell  a  great  distance.  When  she 
came  to  she  found  that  the  child  had  a  great  wound  in 
its  forehead,  and  was  cold  and  stiff  in  death.  She  lifted 
it  up,  and  when  she  came  to  her  husband's  house 
she  found  him  lying  asleep,  drunken  with  toddy,  and 
when  she  roused  him  with  her  grief  he  did  but  curse 
her. 

"  Then  Luan,  with  bitter  scorn,  pointed  to  the  body 
of  the  babe  and  said,  l  Oh,  thou  wicked  and  drunken 
father,  dost  thou  not  see  that  thy  child  is  dead  ?  * 

"  Then  in  his  passion  he  seized  his  pistol  and  struck 
her  on  the  head,  so  that  she  was  stunned  and  fell  as  if 
dead. 

"  That  night  the  people  of  Leasse  saw  the  seven 
white  men,  with  their  wives  and  children,  paddling 
over  towards  the  two  little  islands,  carrying  all  their 
goods  with  them,  for  the  people  had  risen  against  them 
by  reason  of  the  cruelty  of  the  husband  of  Luan,  and 
driven  them  away. 


228  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

"  So  there  they  lived  for  many  weeks,  making  grog 
from  the  coconut  trees,  and  drinking  and  fighting 
among  themselves  all  day,  and  sleeping  the  sleep  of 
the  drunken  at  night.  Their  wives  toiled  for  them 
all  day,  fishing  on  the  reef,  and  bringing  them  taro, 
yams,  and  fruit  from  the  mainland.  But  Luan  alone 
could  not  work,  for  she  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and 
one  day  she  died.  Then  her  white  husband  went  to 
the  village  from  whence  they  were  driven,  and  seizing 
the  wife  of  a  young  man,  bore  her  away  to  the  two 
islets. 

"  The  next  day  he  whose  wife  had  been  stolen  came 
to  the  husband  of  Nehi,  and  said,  c  O  white  man,  help 
me  to  get  back  my  wife  ;  help  me  for  the  sake  of  Luan, 
whom  this  dog  slew,  and  whose  blood  cries  out  to  thee 
for  vengeance,  for  was  she  not  a  blood  relation  to  Nehi, 
thy  wife  ? ' 

"But  though  the  husband  of  Nehi  shook  his  head 
And  denied  the  man  the  musket  he  asked  for,  he  said 
naught  when  at  night-time  a  hundred  men,  carrying 
knives  and  clubs  in  their  hands,  gathered  together  in  the 
council-house,  and  talked  of  the  evil  lives  of  the  seven 
white  men,  and  agreed  that  the  time  had  come  for 
them  to  die. 

41  So  in  silence  they  rose  up  from  the  mats  in  the 
council-house  and  walked  down  to  the  beach,  and 
launching  their  canoes,  paddled  across  to  the  islands 
under  cover  of  the  darkness.  It  so  happened  that  one 
woman  was  awake,  but  all  the  rest  with  the  white 
men  and  their  children  slept.  This  woman  belonged 
to  Leasse,  and  had  come  to  the  beach  to  bathe,  for  the 
night  was  hot  and  windless.  Suddenly  the  canoes  sur- 
rounded her,  and,  fearing  danger  to  her  white  husband, 


The  Shadows  of  the  Dead.  229 

she  sought  to  escape,  but  a  strong  hand  caught  her  by 
the  hair,  rnd  a  voice  bade  her  be  silent. 

"  Now,  the  man  who  held  her  by  the  hair  was  her 
own  sister's  husband,  and  he  desired  to  save  her  life,  so 
he  and  two  others  seized  and  bound  her,  and  quickly 
tied  a  waist-girdle  over  her  mouth  so  that  she  could 
not  cry  out.  But  she  was  strong,  and  struggled  so 
that  the  girdle  slipped  off,  and  she  gave  a  loud  cry. 
And  then  her  sister's  husband,  lest  his  chief  might  say 
he  had  failed  in  his  duty,  and  the  white  men  escape, 
seized  her  throat  in  his  hands  and  pressed  it  so  that  she 
all  but  died. 

"  Then  the  avengers  of  the  blood  of  Luan  sprang 
out  upon  the  beach,  and  ran  through  the  palm  grove 
to  where  the  white  men's  house  stood.  It  was  a  big 
house,  for  they  all  lived  together,  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor  a  lamp  of  coconut  oil  burned,  and  showed 
where  the  seven  white  men  lay. 

"  And  there  as  they  slept  were  they  speared  and 
stabbed  to  death,  although  their  wives  threw  their 
arms  around  the  slayers  and  besought  them  to  spare 
their  husbands'  lives.  And  long  before  dawn  the 
canoes  returned  to  Leasse  with  the  wives  and  chil- 
dren of  the  slain  men,  and  only  the  big  white  man, 
the  husband  of  Nehi,  was  left  alive  out  of  the  twenty 
and  two  who  came  from  the  ships  at  Lela.  So  that  is 
the  story  of  the  two  islets,  and  of  the  evil  men  who 
dwelt  there." 

Denison  rose  and  stretched  himself.  "And  what 
of  the  big  white  man — the  husband  of  Nehi  ?  "  he 
asked  ;  "  doth  his  spirit,  too,  wander  about  at  night  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Tulpe,  "why  should  it  ?  There  was  no 


230  The  Shadows  of  the  Dead. 

innocent  blood  upon  his  hand.  Both  he  and  Nehi 
lived  and  died  among  us  ;  and  to-morrow  it  may  be 
that  Kinia  shalt  show  thee  the  place  whereon  their 
house  stood  in  the  far-back  years.  And  true  are  the 
words  in  the  Book  of  Life — c  He  that  sheddeth  blood, 
by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.'  " 


WE  WE<I(E  FRIENDS 
ALWAYS" 


"  For  we  were  Friends  Always  >! 

LANGLEY,  the  white  trader  of  Uhomotu,1  came  to  his 
door  and  looked  seawards  at  the  smoky  haze  which 
almost  hid  the  ocean  swell  sweeping  westward  from 
Beveridge  Reef,  three  hundred  miles  away,  to  crash 
against  the  grey  coral  cliffs  that  lined  the  weather  side 
of  the  island  from  Uhomotu  to  Liku.  In  the  village 
street,  sweltering  even  under  the  rows  of  coconut  and 
breadfruit  trees,  not  a  sign  of  life  was  visible.  For 
your  true  Polynesian  dreads  heat  as  much  as  cold. 

"What  an  infernal  day,  and  what  a  horrible-looking 
coast !  "  muttered  the  trader,  as  he  looked  at  the  line  of 
dark  grey  rocks  rising  a  sheer  hundred  feet  from  the 
boiling  surf  at  their  base.  Now  and  then  a  heavy 
roller  would  hurl  itself  against  the  wall  of  rock  and 
leap  high  in  the  air,  drenching  with  spray  the  stunted, 
tangled  scrub  that  covered  the  jagged  summits  of  the 
cliffs  to  their  very  edge,  and  pouring  down  the  face  in 
a  seething  white  avalanche  of  humming  foam.  ^ 

The  tide  was  falling,  and  here  and  there  at  the  foot 
of  the  wall  of  rock,  the  trader  could  see  the  protruding 
mounds  and  knobs  of  the  black  reef  of  coral  which,  at 

1  A  village  on  the  northern  ihore  of  Savage  Iiland,  in  the  South 
Pacific. 

m 


234  "  For  we  were  Friends  Always." 

low  tide,  formed  a  border  of  relief  to  the  lighter  hue  of 
the  cliffs  above  it.  For  twenty  feet  or  so  the  reef 
stood  out,  presenting  a  perpendicular  weed-clad  face 
to  the  rolling  Pacific. 


The  hot,  depressing  calm  irritated  the  trader.  He 
was  not  a  drinking  man,  or  he  might  have  drunk  till 
the  land-breeze  set  in  and  cooled  the  air. 

"  I'll  shut  up  the  store  and  camp  under  the  teacher's 
orange-trees  j  it's  cool  there.  Hallo !  what  do  you 
want  ? " 

A  native  boy  was  standing  in  the  room,  holding 
out  a  piece  of  paper.  Langley  took  it  from  him.  It 
was  written  upon  in  the  uoual  sprawling  manner  of 
natives,  and  was  a  request  to  hand  the  bearer  the 
articles  mentioned. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  evil  spirits,  who  be  these  that 
write — Maheke,  Kitia,  and  Minea  ?  "  he  asked, 
crossly. 

" Maheke,  Kitia,  ma  Minea" 

u  O  wood-head  !  am  I  any  wiser  now  ?  " 

The  boy  stared  solemnly,  and  then  by  a  sudden 
inspiration  showed  him  a  roll  of  money  tied  up  in  the 
dangling  end  of  his  dirty  waist-cloth. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  trader,  "  now  do  I  see.  Stolen 
money,  eh  ?  And  these  women  have  sent  thee  to 
spend  it.  Now  will  I  call  for  the  fakafili  (judge)  and 
have  thee  beaten  with  twenty  stripes." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  whined  the  boy,  "  I  be  honest." 

"  Then  why  come  to  this  door,  which  is  tabu ; — 
for  in  here  do  I  eat  and  sleep.  Do  I  buy  or  sell  in 
this  room  ?  Have  I  not  a  store  ?  " 


"  For  we  were  Friends  Always."  235 

"  True,  O  white  man,  but  I  was  forbidden  to  go 
there,  lest  I  be  seen." 

"  Ha,  'tis  stolen  money  then,  else  why  fear  to  be 
seen  ? " 

"  Maheke  forbade  me." 

"  And  who  is  Maheke  ? ' 

"The  friend  of  Kitia?" 

"  And  who  is  Kitia  ?  " 

"The  friend  of  Minea." 

"  O  dolt  !  O  half-awakened  hog  !  How  do  I 
know  these  names  ?  Who,  in  God's  name,  then,  is 
Minea  ?  " 

"She  be  friend  to  Kitia  and  Maheke — they  be 
friends  to  one  another." 

"  So.  I  see.  These  three,  then,  have  stolen  the 
money  between  them — the  fakafili " 

The  boy  began  to  blubber. 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  so,  my  master.  I  do  not  lie  to 
thee.  It  be  honest  money.  And  these  three  gave  it 
me  with  the  tuhi  (letter)  for  thee,  and  bade  me  tell  no 
one.  And  when  I  come  safely  to  them  with  those 
things  for  which  they  ask,  I  am  to  have  one  piece  of 
silver  money  for  myself — and  that  Maheke  hath  now 
in  her  hand  to  give  me  when  I  return." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Langley  was  puzzled.  It  was  so  unusual  for  native 
women  to  send  any  one  to  buy  goods  for  them.  The 
rule  with  the  natives  of  Savage  Island  was  to  make 
their  purchases  ostentatiously,  and  show  every  one  that 
they  had  money.  He  read  the  note  again. 

"  Send  us,  O  good  white  man,  three  white  handkerchiefs,  three  white 
poll  combs,  a  bottle  of  musk,  three  fili  alo  (chemises),  one  fathom  of 
blue  gossamer  to  shade  our  facet  from  the  tun,  and  a  little  tobacco  and 
one  box  of  matches." 


236  "For  we  were  Friends  Always? 

u  What  the  deuce  can  it  be  ? "  he  thought,  as  he 
went  into  the  adjoining  store.  He  got  the  articles 
named,  and  tied  them  into  a  parcel.  Then  he  looked 
again  at  the  rude,  scrawling  signatures — 

"  For  ui,  Mahckc,  Minea,  ma  Kitia." 

"  Here,  boy,  take  these.     Stay,  what  is  thy  name  ?  ** 

"  Vetsi,  the  son  of  Soseni." 

"  So.  And  who  are  these  women  that  send  thee  to 
buy  ?  Hast  thou  three  wives  ?  Who  is  Maheke  ?  " 

The  boy  laughed  at  the  white  man's  pleasantry,  and 
began — 

"  Maheke  is  the  friend " 

The  trader  darted  out  his  hand,  caught  him  by  the 
shoulder,  and  shook  him. 

"  Now,  tell  me  where  does  Maheke  live  ? " 

"  In  Uhomotu,  with  her  mother.  She  it  is  whose 
lover  died  in  the  Pokula  (Guano  Islands)  last  year." 

"  Good.     And  Minea  ?  " 

The  parrot-like  repetition  of"  She  is "  was  again 

issuing  from  his  lips,  when  another  shake  brought  the 
boy  to  his  senses. 

"  Minea  is  the  thin  girl  with  the  foot  that  wastcth 
away." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  trader,  and  he  asked  no  further 
questions ;  while  the  boy,  glad  to  be  released,  went 
cautiously  away  with  the  parcel,  looking  fearfully 
about  him  lest  he  should  be  seen  by  any  of  the 
villagers. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Although  not  yet  six  months  on  Savage  Island,  and 
unfamiliar  with  the  names  of  many  of  the  natives  in 


"  For  we  were  Friends  Always"  237 

his  own  locality,  the  trader  now  remembered  these 
three  girls.  Sometimes  they  would  bring  fruit  or  a 
little  cotton  for  sale,  and,  unlike  the  generality  of  the 
people,  who  would  hang  about  and  bandy  words  with 
him,  they  would  take  payment  in  cash  and  go  quietly 
away.  One  of  them,  Minea,  walked  with  a  stick. 
She  was  the  youngest  of  the  three,  and  her  two 
companions  seemed  tenderly  anxious  for  her.  Some 
terrible  bone-disease  had  crippled  her  foot,  which  was 
slowly  wasting  away.  Maheke,  a  sombre-faced,  black- 
browed  creature,  had  one  day  been  pointed  out  to  him 
as  the  girl  who  refused  to  marry  a  man  of  her  parents' 
choice,  for  which  contumacy  she  had  received  many 
thrashings.  Of  Kitia  he  knew  nothing,  except  that 
she  was  the  pretty  and  inseparable  companion  of  the 
other  two. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"Ani,"  said  he  an  hour  or  so  afterwards  to  the 
teacher's  daughter,  a  fat,  sullen-faced  girl,  as  he  lay 
smoking  beneath  an  orange-tree  in  her  father's  garden, 
"who  be  the  three  girls,  Kitia,  Minea,  and  Maheke?  " 

The  sullen  features  lighted  up  vindictively.  Ah  ! 
they  were  a  bad,  lazy  lot.  Maheke  !  the  shameless 
creature  that  would  not  marry  a  good  man  like 
Paturei,  who  was  a  deacon.  And  why  ?  Because 
she  had  a  dead  lover  in  Pokula.  She  wanted  more 
beatings.  Kitia,  an  idle  little  beast  that  the  white 
men  favoured  because  she  dressed  her  head  with 
flowers  and  sang  heathen  Samoan  songs,  and  walked 
with  bare  bosom  to  the  bathing-place,  which  the 
fakafili  had  forbidden,  because  it  was  not  modest. 
Minea,  she  who  was  once  so  saucy  and  was  now 
smitten  by  God  for  her  sins 


238  "  For  we  were  Friends  Always." 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  you  putty-faced  devil !  "  said  the 
trader,  disgustedly,  in  English. 

"Thou  art  but  as  a  stranger  here,"  the  teacher's 
daughter  began  again,  oilily,  "and  these  are  girls 
whose  names  have  been  called  aloud  in  the  church 
by  my  father  for  their  bad  ways.  They  are  three 
friends — a  fourth  there  is,  who  is  the  Devil." 

"Ah!"  said  the  white  man,  mockingly,  "then  have 
they  a  strong  friend.  Perhaps  'tis  he  that  giveth  them 
so  much  money  to  spend  in  my  store." 

"  What  money  ?  "  said  she,  quickly. 

The  trader,  for  amusement,  magnified  the  purchases 
of  the  Three  Friends.  The  teacher's  daughter  he 
knew  to  be  a  greedy,  malicious  creature,  and  it 
pleased  him  to  torment  her. 

Suddenly  there  came  to  them  from  the  beach  a  loud 
clamour  of  voices,  and  with  a  cry  of  alarm  the  fat  Ani 
tore  past  the  astonished  trader  into  the  village,  calling 
out  something  about  the  Three  Friends  and  the  cliffs 
of  Matasuafa. 

Before  the  white  man  could  get  to  the  village  to 
learn  the  cause  of  alarm  every  soul  had  left  it,  their 
brown  bodies  dashing  aside  the  shrubs  and  cotton 
bushes  that  lay  in  their  way  as  they  hastened  with 
excited  cries  to  the  cliffs.  Wondering  if  they  had  all 
gone  mad,  he  followed. 

•  •  •  •  • 

At  a  point  called  Matasuafa,  where  the  perpendicular 
face  of  the  cliffs  was  highest,  the  natives — men, 
women,  and  children — clustered  like  bees.  Those 
in  front,  holding  with  one  hand  the  branches  of  the 
tough  scrub  that  grew  on  the  summit,  gazed  down  at 
the  black  ledge  of  reef  that  stood  abruptly  out  from 


"  For  we  were  Friends  Always"  239 

the  foot  of  the  cliff.  There,  directly  beneath,  lay  the 
motionless  figures  of  three  girls.  Descent  at  this  spot 
was  impossible,  and  the  eyes  of  the  watchers  on  top 
moved  alternately  from  the  huddled-up  forms  beneath 
to  those  of  four  or  five  men  who  were  running  along 
the  narrow  table  of  reef  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 

The  tide  was  dead  low,  yet,  as  the  half-naked  men 
sprang  across  the  pools  and  air-holes  that  broke  up  the 
crust  of  the  reef,  the  ocean  swell  broke  savagely 
against  its  face  and  smothered  them  in  misty  spray. 
And  now  and  again  a  roller  heavier  than  the  rest 
would  send  a  thin  sheet  of  water  hissing  along  the 
ledge  of  rock  to  sway  to  and  fro  the  long  black  hair 
and  ensanguined  garments  of  the  Three  Friends.  It 
came  up  clear  as  crystal ;  it  poured  back  again  through 
the  coral  gutters  and  air-holes  to  the  sea  tinged  with  a 
bloody  stain. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  men  dashed  on  and  lifted  them  up,  and  then 
fought  their  way  back  through  the  sweeping  seas 
along  the  ledge  of  cruel,  black  rock,  to  a  place  where 
a  narrow  path  had  been  cut  away  in  a  break  of  the 
cliffs. 

For  some  time  the  trader  tried  to  get  near  them  to 
see  if  by  any  chance  they  yet  lived.  Whilst  waiting 
on  the  cliffs  he  had  learnt  the  meaning  of  the  myste- 
rious purchase  of  the  morning.  After  meeting  the 
boy  in  a  lonely  sugar-cane  patch,  the  girls  had  dressed 
themselves  in  their  best,  carefully  oiling  and  combing 
their  long,  glossy  hair.  Then,  after  making  and 
smoking  some  cigarettes  and  sprinkling  one  another 
with  scent,  they  bade  him  come  with  them  a  part  of 
the  way.  They  travelled  an  old,  unused  path  of  former 


240  "  For  we  were  Friends  Always" 

days,  unknown  even  to  the  boy  Vetsi,  who  now  began 
to  get  frightened,  and  wept. 

Then  they  stopped,  and  Maheke,  taking  the  boy's 
hand,  placed  in  it  the  half-dollar  she  had  promised  him 
and  bade  him  go  back ;  but  the  lame  girl,  Minea,  who 
seemed  moved  somewhat,  took  him  to  her  bosom  and 
kissed  and  fondled  him.  Then  she  pushed  him  away, 
and,  with  the  other  two  supporting  her  weakly  frame, 
they  struck  into  the  undergrowth  that  quivered  to 
the  shock  of  the  breakers  dashing  against  the  face  of 
Matasuafa. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  trader  pushed  silently  through  the  people  and 
looked.  Two,  Maheke  and  Minea,  were  dead.  Their 
agony  had  been  brief.  The  third,  the  round-faced, 
laughing-voiced  Kitia,  who  was  but  budding  into 
womanhood,  still  lived,  but  that  it  was  not  for  long 
could  easily  be  seen.  Both  legs  and  her  back  were 
broken. 

A  woman,  with  shaking  hands  and  streaming  eyes, 
bent  over  her  and  spoke. 

The  girl's  eyes  opened,  big,  soft,  black,  and  tender. 

u  Eke^  where  art  thou,  Maheke  ?  .  .  .  and  thou, 
my  Minea  ?  .  .  .  Shall  I  fail  thee,  O  my  friends  .  .  . 
my  friends  ?  " 

The  woman  laid  her  lips  to  the  dying  mouth. 

"  My  child,  my  Kitia,  'tis  I,  thy  old  mother  !  " 

The  bruised  and  bleeding  fingers  twitched  feebly, 
and  then  Ani,  the  Bitter-Tongued,  knelt,  and  raising 
the  girl's  arms,  placed  the  maimed  hands  against  her 
mother's  cheek,  and  kept  them  there. 

The  woman  sobbed  a  question,  and  in  a  faint  whisper 
the  answer  came. 


"  For  we  were  Friends  Always"  241 

"We  had  sworn  it  ...  long,  long  ago.  'Twas 
when  Maheke's  lover  died  we  planned  it.  *  I  will  die 
ere  I  become  wife  to  Paturei,'  she  said.  .  .  .  We  were 
friends  .  .  .  friends.  And  Minea  said,  'Then  shall 
I  die  with  thee,  for  I  suffer  pain  always — always.'  And 
then  I,  I  who  was  strong  and  well,  I  jumped  too,  for 
we  were  friends,  and  I  had  sworn  to  them  ...  to  be 
with  them  .  .  .  always  ...  for  ever.  My  mother 
...  so  old  art  thou  .  .  ." 

The  trader,  with  a  sudden  mist  dimming  his  eyes 
and  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  stood  back  and  turned 
his  face  to  the  sea.  Then  he  walked  slowly  home  to 
the  village. 

As  he  emerged  from  the  narrow  path  into  the  open, 
the  chill  of  the  dewy  night-breeze  struck  upon  his  face. 

He  stopped  a  moment  on  the  hill,  listening. 

Twas  but  the  muffled  boom  of  the  rollers  on 
Matasuafa,  sounding  in  long,  solemn  symphony  the 
requiem  of  the  Three  Friends  of  Uhomotu. 


«7 


Nikoa 

A  WHITE  man,  thin,  brown-skinned,  and  ragged,  was 
walking  along  the  reef  at  Henuake,  one  of  the  Low 
Archipelago.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  turtle  spear, 
and  every  now  and  then  he  would  examine  the  deep 
pools  that  at  intervals  broke  the  hollow  crust  of  the 
reef.  Behind  him,  carrying  a  basket,  came  his  native 
wife. 

The  tide  was  very  low,  and  the  outer  edge  of  the 
black  wall  of  reef,  covered  on  the  top  with  patches 
and  clumps  of  round  yellow  and  pink  coral  knobs,  had 
dried,  and  under  the  fierce  sun-rays  a  sickening  odour 
arose  from  the  countless  marine-growths  and  organisms. 

Presently  the  white  man  sat  down  upon  a  weed- 
covered  boulder  on  the  brink  of  a  pool,  and  waited  for 
the  woman  to  come  up. 

•  .  •  •  » 

The  man's  name  was  Falkiner,  and  he  was  about 
the  poorest  beachcomber  in  the  group.  Not  many 
years  before  he  had  been  a  different  man,  but  he  had 
made  money  fast  in  those  days,  and  as  fast  as  he  made 
it  he  had  spent  it  in  drunken  orgies  at  Auckland, 
Papiete,  and  Honolulu.  Then  his  luck  turned,  and 
from  being  a  man  of  might  and  substance  and  the 
owner  of  two  pearling-schooners  he  had  sunk  to  living 

«4S 


246  Nikoa. 

on  Henuake,  planting  coconuts  for  an  American  firm. 
Fifteen  months  before  they  had  landed  him  and  his 
wife  and  four  native  labourers,  and  about  twenty 
thousand  seed-coconuts.  Telling  him  to  be  careful 
of  his  provisions,  and  that  the  schooner  would  be  back 
again  in  six  months,  the  captain  had  sailed  away. 

The  woman  came  up,  and,  taking  the  basket  oft 
her  shoulders,  sat  down  beside  him.  For  a  while 
neither  spoke.  The  man  was  tired  and  savage,  and 
the  woman  knew  his  mood  too  well  to  speak  until 
she  was  spoken  to.  Away  on  either  hand  stretched 
the  black  waste  of  reef  j  in  front  the  oily,  glassy  ocean, 
with  here  and  there  a  flock  of  snow-white  sea-birds 
meandering  on  the  wing  or  floating  on  its  smooth 
surface ;  and  shorewards  the  long  low  line  of  verdure 
fringed  by  the  dazzling  white  beach. 

"Show  me,"  said  Falkiner,  pointing  to  the  basket. 

Nikoa  opened  the  basket  and  showed  him  a  young 
turtle  of  about  2olb.  weight. 

"That  will  do  us,  Nikoa,  for  a  day  or  two.  Per- 
haps the  kau  puaka  will  see  now  that  I  want  nothing 
from  them." 

Now  by  kau  puaka  (crew  of  pigs)  the  white  man 
meant  his  native  labourers,  with  whom  he  had  quar- 
relled. When  his  provisions  ran  out — and  especially 
his  liquor — and  they  all  had  to  live  upon  native  food, 
his  morose  temper  soon  caused  a  breach,  and  it  had 
gradually  widened  day  by  day  till  at  last  the  white 
man  and  his  wife  had  to  seek  their  own  food. 

"Harry,"  said  the  woman,  "why  use  such  bitter 
words  ?  These  men  of  Raroia  are  quick-blooded,  and 


Nikoa.  247 

who  is  to  know  of  it  should  thy  hot  tongue  bring 
death  upon  us  two  suddenly  in  the  night  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  know,  what  have  you  heard  ?  "  he 
asked,  suspiciously. 

"  This,"  she  answered,  quickly  :  "  but  two  days  ago 
two  of  them  came  to  me  and  asked  would  I  go  with 
them  in  the  boat  and  seek  some  other  island,  for  they 
are  wearied  of  living  here  and  getting  naught  but  foul 
words  from  the  white  man." 

The  ragged  man  looked  savagely  at  her  for  a 
moment,  then  snarled  :  "  Well,  you  sad-faced  devil, 
you  can  go.  I  don't  want  you  any  more,  curse  you !  " 

The  woman's  eyes  flashed  fire  :  "  That  is  the  devil 
in  thee  that  speaks  because  it  calleth  for  more  grog. 
Now,  listen.  It  will  be  well  for  thee  to  be  friendly 
with  these  men,  for  they  are  four  to  us  two,  and  they 
have  the  boat,  and  they  have  money — much  money." 

"  Money,"  said  Falkiner ;  "  where  could  they  get 
money  on  Henuake  ?  "  and  he  laughed  incredulously. 

Then  she  told  him. 

»  .  •  •  • 

Two  days  before  the  four  natives  had  been  searching 
for  robber-crabs  in  a  dense  puka  scrub,  when  they  had 
found,  lying  on  the  ground,  a  boat's  water-breaker. 
One  of  them  had  taken  hold  of  it  to  lift  it  up,  and 
found  it  to  be  too  heavy.  As  he  placed  his  hands 
under  each  end  the  bilge  gave  way,  and  a  great 
mass  of  silven  coin  poured  out  in  a  heap.  They  each 
set  to  work  and  made  four  strong  baskets.  Into  these 
they  divided  the  money,  and  hid  it  away.  Then  they 
consulted. 

"  Let  us  tell  the  white  man,"  said  one,  "  and  when 
he  sees  all  this  money  he  will  wait  here  on  Henuake 


248  Nikoa. 

no  longer,  but  take  it  and  us  away  with  him  to 
Raroia." 

"No,"  said  the  others,  "let  us  hide  it  until  the 
schooner  comes  back  for  us.  We  can  steal  it  on  board 
at  night-time.  Why  tell  the  white  man  ?  He  will 
keep  it  and  perhaps  kill  us." 

But  they  had  told  Nikoa,  and  she  had  urged  them 
to  let  her  tell  the  white  man — the  money  was  his,  she 
argued.  Were  they  not  his  men  ?  Was  he  not  a 
good  man  to  them  until  all  his  liquor  was  gone  ? — 
only  then  had  he  become  sour  and  moody.  And  so 
they  let  it  rest  with  her.  And  now  she  told  him. 

"  You're  a  good  girl,  Nikoa,"  said  the  white  man, 
pleasantly.  "  We'll  take  the  boat  and  go  back  to 
Raroia,  and  let  Henuake  take  care  of  itself.  Tell  the 
men  we  will  divide  the  money  evenly — and  let  us  be 
friends  again." 

Nikoa  smiled.  Loyalty  to  her  husband  was  always 
her  first  thought,  and  she  thought  with  delight  of  her 
home  at  Garumaoa  on  Raroia — the  village  of  her 
childhood,  where  she  was  as  happy  as  the  day  was 
long.  A  year  and  a  half  ago  Falkiner  had  bought  her 
from  the  chief,  and  with  unquestioning  obedience  she 
had  followed  him  to  lonely  Henuake.  He  was  occa- 
sionally a  great  brute  to  her  ;  yet,  although  she  was 
sickening  to  return  to  her  people,  she  had  no  thought 
of  doing  so  without  the  white  man. 

They  rose  and  walked  back  to  the  line  of  palms  on 
the  beach — the  woman  laughing  and  talking  joyously, 
and  the  man  planning  black  treachery. 

In  another  hour  the  four  brown  men  had  come  back 
to  his  house,  each  carrying  his  basket-load  of  silver 
dollars.  They  were  emptied  on  a  mat  and  counted 


Nikoa.  249 

out  in  piles  ot  hundreds.  There  were  over  four 
thousand  dollars.  Falkiner  divided  it  into  six  shares — 
one  for  each  of  the  men,  and  one  for  Nikoa. 

Then  each  brown  man  tied  his  share  up  in  a  piece 
of  cloth  and  handed  it  to  the  white  man — to  mind  till 
they  got  back  to  Raroia. 

"  Whose  money  was  it  before  ? "  they  asked  him 
that  night,  as  they  sat  in  his  house  smoking. 

He  shook  his  head.  It  was  mostly  in  American 
dollars  and  half-dollars  and  Chilian  half-dollars.  He 
had  heard  of  some  human  remains  being  found  in 
Henuake  long  years  ago,  and  that  a  whaleship  had 
been  lost  there  some  time  about  1850.  Perhaps  the 
money  had  come  from  her — whaleships  in  those  days 
often  carried  as  much  as  five  thousand  dollars  to  buy 
pearl-shell  and  tortoise-shell. 

Then  the  men  went  away  to  their  own  hut  to  sleep, 
and  Nikoa,  the  woman,  slept  too. 

When  he  was  sure  she  slumbered  soundly,  Falkiner 
carefully  examined  and  loaded  his  Colt's  revolver,  and 
placed  it  in  the  chest  with  the  dollars. 


At  daybreak  they  pulled  out  of  the  quiet  lagoon  and 
headed  for  Raroia.  It  was  calm,  and  the  day  became 
hot,  yet  the  four  men  pulled  unwearingly  all  day, 
with  but  short  intervals  of  rest.  At  dusk  a  faint  air 
sprang  up,  and  they  hoisted  the  sail. 

"  Sleep,  strong  men,  sleep,"  said  the  white  man, 
"  Nikoa  and  I  will  steer  by  turns  till  it  be  dawn." 

The  four  natives  lay  down.  The  one  who  was 
pulling  the  bow-oar  was  a  lad  named  Te  Rangi,  a  cousin 
of  Nikoa.  As  he  coiled  his  body  into  the  confined 


250  Nikoa. 

space  where  he  lay  Nikoa  threw  him  a  mat  to  keep  off 
the  chilly  night  air.     Then  she  slept  also  till  dawn. 


Suddenly  the  sound  of  two  shots  pealed  out  over 
the  ocean,  and,  as  the  woman  sprang  up  terrified, 
a  third.  There,  under  the  first  flush  of  the  rising 
sun,  she  saw  three  of  her  countrymen  lying  either  dead 
or  dying,  and  Falkiner  pointing  his  pistol  at  the  mat- 
covered  figure  in  the  bows. 

She  seized  his  arm.  "  Harry,  'tis  Te  Rangi,  my 
brother.  Let  him  live  ?  "  He  shook  her  off  with  a 
savage  curse,  and  fired.  The  bullet  broke  the  arm  of 
the  sleeping  lad,  who  sat  up  and  gazed  in  terror  at  the 
savage  face  of  the  white  man. 

Again  the  woman  caught  his  hand  and  begged  for 
the  boy's  life.  He  was  but  a  lad,  she  urged  ;  he  was, 
too,  of  her  own  blood — how  then  could  he  betray  ? 
There  was  land  not  far  distant.  Let  him  have  his  life 
now  and  he  could  be  landed  there. 

But  Falkiner  again  thrust  her  aside,  and,  this  time, 
sent  a  bullet  through  Te  Rangi's  heart. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  dead  men  had  been  thrown  overboard,  and 
Falkiner  had  changed  the  boat's  course  to  W.  by  N. 
He  would  get  to  Samoa,  he  thought.  Once  there,  he 
need  have  no  fear.  He  had  spared  the  woman's  life 
simply  because  he  thought  that  she  would  never  betray 
him.  As  soon  as  she  got  over  losing  Te  Rangi  she 
would  be  all  right  again  and  find  her  tongue. 

A  few  miles  ahead  of  the  boat  was  a  cluster  of  low 
islands,  uninhabited  all  but  one.  Falkiner  knew  them 
well,  and  presently  he  said  to  the  woman — 


Nikoa.  251 

"  Nikoa,  we  will  sleep  on  Napuka  to-night,  and  in 
the  morning  get  as  many  young  coconuts  as  we  can 
for  the  boat,  and  perhaps  we  may  find  a  turtle  on  the 
beach.  Then  we  go  to  Samoa." 

She  nodded  her  head.  The  wild  hatred  of  the  man 
that  now  filled  her  heart  kept  her  from  speaking. 

The  current  in  Napuka  Passage  was  running  out 
fiercely,  and  the  boat  could  scarcely  make  headway 
against  it,  even  with  the  strong  S.E.  trade  filling  her 
big  sail. 

"  Let  us  make  fast  to  the  edge  of  the  coral  till  the 
tide  turns,"  said  the  white  man,  and  he  let  the  boat's 
head  fall  off  a  little,  at  the  same  time  standing  up  to 
get  a  better  view. 

But  a  sudden  whirling  eddy  brought  the  boat  up 
against  a  great  knob  of  coral,  and  Falkiner  lost  his 
balance  with  the  shock  and  fell  over  the  side. 

When  he  rose  to  the  surface  he  was  a  hundred  feet 
away  from  the  boat,  which  had  swung  round  head-to 
the  current,  but  was  hard  and  fast  on  the  coral  knob. 

"  Push  her  off,  Nikoa,"  he  called  out,  "  else  I  am 
taken  out  to  sea  !  " 

Nikoa  stood  up  and  laughed.  "  Even  so,  killer  of 
my  brother  !  The  heavy  baskets  of  money,  for  which 
thou  sheddest  the  blood  of  four  men,  keeps  the  boat 
firm  on  the  rock.  It  is  a  judgment  on  thee." 

Above  the  roaring,  hissing,  and  swirling  of  the  water 
her  voice  reached  him,  and,  still  struggling  madly  to 
gain  the,  sides  of  the  passage,  he  was  borne  out  into 
the  blue  depths  beyond. 

Then  Nikoa,  shielding  her  eyes  from  the  sun  with 
one  hand,  saw  a  splash  in  the  water,  and  heard  a  faint 


252  Nikoa. 

cry  of  agony,  and  knew  that  a  shark  had  taken  the 
murderer. 

»*•••• 

The  boat  soon  lay  high  and  dry  on  the  coral  knob, 
and  Nikoa,  lighting  a  cigarette,  sat  and  smoked  awhile. 
Then  she  took  out  the  baskets  of  coin,  and  cut  them 
open  and  poured  the  blood-stained  money  into  the 
wildly  sweeping  waters.  When  the  last  one  was 
emptied,  she  lay  down  and  slept  till  the  tide  turned. 

When  she  awoke  the  boat  was  drifting  in  quietly  to 
the  land,  and  a  canoe  full  of  light-skinned  men  with 
strong,  wiry  beards  and  moustaches  was  alongside. 

"Who  art  thou  ?  "  said  one. 

"  Nikoa  of  Raroia,"  she  answered.  "  My  man  fell 
out  of  the  boat,  and  was  eaten  by  a  shark.  What  men 
are  ye  ?  " 

"We  be  of  Tetopoto,"  they  replied,  pointing  to 
the  farthest  island ;  "  had  there  been  men  with  you 
we  had  killed  them.  But  we  will  not  hurt  a 
woman." 

•  •  •  •  • 

And  for  years  afterwards  the  children  or  Napuka 
and  Tetopoto  found  silver  money  in  the  holes  and 
pools  of  the  reef. 


THE  STRANGE    WHITE    WOMAN 
OF    MADURti 


The  Strange   White   Woman  of 
Maduro 

A  GROUP  of  four  men  were  seated  upon  a  trader's 
verandah  at  MadurS,  one  of  the  Marshall  Islands. 
They  were  smoking  and  talking  about  old  times. 
The  night  was  brilliantly  moonlight,  and  the  hull  and 
spars  of  a  little  white-painted  brig  that  lay  anchored 
in  the  lagoon  about  a  mile  distant  from  the  trader's 
house  stood  out  as  clearly  and  distinct  as  if  she  were 
but  fifty  yards  away  from  where  they  sat.  Three  of 
the  men  present  were  visitors — Ned  Packenham  the 
captain,  Harvey  the  mate,  and  Denison  the  super- 
cargo of  the  Indiana ;  the  fourth  was  the  trader  him- 
self— a  grizzled  old  wanderer  of  past  sixty,  with  a  skin 
like  unto  dark  leather,  and  a  frame  that,  old  as  he  was, 
showed  he  was  still  as  active  and  vigorous  as  when  he 
had  first  landed  on  Maduro  atoll  thirty  years  before. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  and  the  old  trader's 
numerous  half-caste  family  had  turned-in  to  sleep  some 
hours  before.  The  strange,  wondrous  beauty  of  the 
night,  and  the  pleasure  'of  listening  to  old  Charlie 
Waller's  talk  of  the  early  days  in  the  Marshalls  when 
every  white  man  lived  like  a  prince,  and  died  in  his 
boots  from  a  bullet  or  a  spear,  had  tempted  the  visitors 

255 


256    The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Mddurti. 

to  send  their  boat  back  to  the  ship  and  accept  Charlie's 
invitation  to  remain  till  breakfast  next  morning.  It 
so  happened  that  the  old  man  had  just  been  talking 
about  a  stalwart  son  of  his  who  had  died  a  few  months 
previously,  and  Packenham  and  Denison,  to  whom  the 
lad  had  been  well  known,  asked  his  father  where  the 
boy  had  been  buried. 

"In  there,"  replied  the  old  man,  pointing  to  a  small 
white-walled  enclosure,  about  a  stone's  throw  from 
where  they  were  sitting.  "There's  a  good  many 
graves  there  now.  Let  me  see.  There  is  Dawnay, 
the  skipper  of  the  Maid  of  Samoa,  and  three  of  his 
crew  ;  Petersen,  the  Dutchman,  that  got  a  bullet  into 
him  for  fooling  around  too  much  with  a  pistol  in  his 
hand  and  challenging  natives  to  fight  when  he  was 
drunk  ;  two  or  three  of  my  wife's  relatives,  who 
wanted  to  be  buried  in  my  boneyard,  because  they 
thought  to  make  me  some  return  for  keeping  their 
families  after  they  were  dead  ;  my  boy  Tom  ;  and  the 
white  woman." 

"  White  woman  ! "  said  the  mate  of  the  brig.  "  Was 
there  a  white  woman  died  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  trader  ;  "  but  it's  so  long  ago 
that  I've  almost  forgotten  the  matter  myself.  Why, 
let  me  see — I  came  here  in  '40  or  '41.  Well,  I  think 
it  was  some  time  about  '48  or  '49." 

"Who  was  she?" 

Old  Waller  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  That  I  can't 
tell.  I  only  know  that  she  died  here,  and  that  I  buried 
her." 

"  Where  did  she  come  from  ? "  asked  Denison. 

"That  I  can't  tell  you  either,  gentlemen.  But  I'll 
tell  you  all  I  do  know,  and  a  mighty  queer  yarn  it  is, 


The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Maduri.    257 

too.  In  those  days  I  was  the  only  white  man  here. 
I  had  come  here  about  six  years  before  from  Ebon, 
about  four  hundred  miles  from  here,  and,  as  I  had 
learnt  the  language,  I  got  on  very  well  with  the  natives, 
and  was  doing  a  big  business.  There  were  not  many 
whaleships  here  then,  but  every  ten  months  or  so  a 
vessel  came  here  from  Sydney,  and,  as  I  had  the  sole 
run  of  the  whole  of  this  lagoon,  I  generally  filled  her  up 
with  coconut  oil,  and  was  making  money  hand  over  fist. 

"  The  house  in  which  I  then  lived  was,  like  this  one, 
built  of  coral  lime,  but  stood  further  away  towards  the 
point,  in  rather  a  clearer  spot  than  this,  for  the  coco- 
nut trees  were  not  growing  thickly  together  around  it. 
You  can  see  the  place  from  here,  and  also  see  that  a 
house  standing  in  such  a  position  would  be  visible,  not 
only  from  all  parts  of  the  inside  beaches  of  the  lagoon, 
but  from  the  sea  as  well.  It  used  to  be  a  regular  land- 
ing mark  for  all  the  canoes  sailing  over  here  from 
Arhnu  (a  low-lying  coral  atoll,  densely  populated, 
twenty  miles  distant)  for,  being  whitewashed,  it  stood 
out  very  clearly,  even  at  night-time. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  pretty  lonely  life  in  those  days,  only 
seeing  a  ship  once  a  year  ;  but  I  was  making  money, 
as  I  said,  hand  over  fist,  and  didn't  worry  much.  My 
wife — not  the  present  one,  you  know — was  a  Bonin 
Island  half-bred  Portugee  woman,  and  as  she  generally 
talked  to  me  in  English,  and  had  no  native  ways  to 
speak  of,  we  used  to  sit  outside  in  the  evenings  pretty 
often  and  watch  our  kids  and  the  village  people  dancing 
and  otherwise  amusing  themselves  on  the  beach. 
Rotau,  the  head  chief  of  this  lagoon,  was  very 
chummy  with  me,  and  sometimes  he  and  his  wives 
would  come  up  of  an  evening  and  join  us. 

18 


258     The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Mdduro. 

a  One  night  he  told  us  that  a  canoe  had  come  from 
Milli  [an  island  about  three  days'  sail  to  the  leeward  of 
Waller's  place],  and  reported  that  a  ship  had  passed 
quite  close  to  their  island  about  a  week  before.  At 
first  I  thought  it  was  my  vessel  coming  up  from 
Sydney,  but  Rotau  said  it  was  not  a  brig,  but  a  three- 
masted  ship  with  yards  on  all  her  masts.  Well,  at 
first  I  thought  it  was  a  whaler,  but  then  remembered 
that  it  was  fully  four  months  too  late  in  the  year  for  a 
blubber-hunter  to  be  around.  Then  it  occurred  to 
me  that  it  might  be  some  English  ship  going  to 
China  or  the  East  Indies  from  the  colonies ;  but  I 
wondered  why  she  was  beating  to  the  eastward  if 
that  were  the  case. 

"Well,  after  we  had  sat  talking  for  awhile,  my  wife 
called  the  children  in  and  put  them  to  sleep,  and 
Rotau  and  I  and  his  wives  sat  outside  a  bit  longer, 
smoking.  All  the  rest  of  the  natives  had  gone  away, 
and  the  beach  was  deserted.  It  was  a  moonlight 
night,  almost  as  bright  as  it  is  to-night,  and  the  sea 
was  as  smooth  as  a  millpond  j  so  smooth,  in  fact,  that 
there  was  not  even  a  break  upon  the  reef,  and  the 
trade  wind  having  died  away,  there  was  not  the  sound 
of  a  leaf  stirring  in  the  palm  grove,  and  only  just  the 
'lip-lap,  lip-lap'  of  the  water  in  the  lagoon  as  it 
swished  up  the  sandy  beach. 

"  We  had  been  sitting  like  this  for  about  half  an 
hour,  when  Nera,  my  wife,  just  as  she  was  coming  out 
of  the  door  to  join  us,  gave  a  cry. 

" c  Te  Kalbuke  !     Look  at  the  ship  ! ' 

"  I  jumped  up  and  looked,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
was  a  big  ship  just  showing  round  the  point  and  close 
in — at  least,  not  more  than  a  mile  away  from  the  reef. 


The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Mddurb.    259 

She  showed  up  so  plainly  on  the  surface  of  the  water 
that  I  could  see  that  she  was  under  all  canvas — except 
her  royals  and  such. 

"For  a  moment  I  was  a  bit  scared,  remember- 
ing that  there  was  not  a  breath  of  wind,  and  yet  seeing 
her  moving  ;  then  I  remembered  the  current,  and  knew 
that  she  must  have  run  up  to  the  land  from  the  west- 
ward, before  dark,  perhaps,  and  that  as  soon  as  the 
breeze  had  died  away  the  current,  which  runs  about 
four  knots  off  the  weather  side  of  the  island,  had 
caught  her  and  was  now  moving  her  along.  Even  by 
the  moonlight  I  could  see  that  she  was  a  fine-looking 
ship  ;  and  by  her  sheer,  high  bows,  white-painted  deck- 
houses, and  cut  of  her  sails,  I  took  her  to  be  either  a 
Yankee  or  British  North-American. 

"  I  always  kept  my  whaleboat  ready  in  those  days, 
and,  after  looking  at  her  for  a  bit  and  seeing  she  was 
steadily  drifting  along  to  the  north-east  and  would  be 
out  of  sight  by  the  morning,  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
board  her.  But  just  as  I  had  asked  Rotau  to  get  one 
of  his  women  to  hunt  up  a  boat's  crew,  he  sang  out — 

" l  Listen  ;  I  hear  a  boat ! ' 

"  In  another  moment  or  two  I  heard  it,  plain 
enough — click,  clack ;  click,  clack — and  at  the  same  time 
saw  that  the  ship  was  heading  away  from  the  land. 

" '  That's  queer,'  I  thought.  And  then  Rotau,  who, 
like  all  natives,  had  better  eyes  than  most  white  men, 
said  that  she  had  three  boats  out  towing. 

" '  Ah,'  I  thought, c  the  captain  has  got  frightened  at 
the  current,  and,  as  he  can't  anchor  where  he  is,  he's 
sending  in  a  boat  to  try  and  find  a  place  where  he  can 
let  go  till  morning  and  is  towing  off  the  land  mean- 
while.' 


260    The  Strange  White  Woman  of  MddurV. 

"  I  knew  the  ship  was  right  enough,  and  could  not 
get  into  any  danger,  as  the  current  would  take  her 
clear  of  the  land  in  another  hour  or  so ;  so  we  all  went 
down  to  the  point  to  see  where  the  boat  was  coming. 

"  As  I  said,  there  wasn't  even  so  much  as  a  bit  of 
froth  on  the  reef,  and,  being  high  water,  no  one  a 
stranger  to  a  coral  reef  would  know  it  was  there  till 
he  was  going  over  it  in  a  boat  and  looked  over  the 
side.  We  had  just  got  down  to  the  point  when  we 
saw  the  boat  close  to.  She  was  being  pulled  very 
quickly  by  four  hands,  and  made  a  devil  of  a  row 
coming  through  the  water.  The  man  who  was  steer- 
ing was  standing  up,  and  I  saw  that  his  cap  was  ofi^ 
and  his  face  showed  white  and  ghastly  in  the  moon- 
light. 

"  As  soon  as  she  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
beach  I  hailed  them  to  keep  a  bit  to  starboard,  as  there 
was  a  big  coral  boulder  right  in  front  of  the  spot  they 
were  steering  for. 

" '  Aye,  aye,'  answered  the  man  steering,  and  he  did 
as  I  told  him.  In  another  minute  or  two  the  boat 
shot  up  on  the  beach,  and  we  crowded  round  them. 

" '  Stand  back,  please,'  says  the  officer,  speaking  in  a 
curious,  hurried  kind  of  way,  and  then  I  saw  that  he 
had  a  pistol  in  his  left  hand,  and  that  the  men  with 
him  looked  white  and  scared,  and  seemed  to  take  no 
notice  of  us. 

"But  they  didn't  give  us  much  time  to  wonder  at 
their  looks.  Two  of  the  men  jumped  out,  and  then 
we  saw  that  there  was  another  person  in  the  boat — a 
woman.  She  was  sitting  on  the  bottom  boards,  lying 
against  the  stern-sheets,  and  seemed  to  be  either  asleep 
or  dead.  The  officer  helping  them,  they  lifted  her  up 


The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Mddurti.    261 

out  of  the  boat  and  carried  her  ashore.  Then  the 
officer  turns  to  me,  and  I  saw  that  though  he  tried  to 
speak  quietly,  he  was  in  a  devil  of  a  flurry  over  some- 
thing. 

"  *  What's  all  this  ? '  I  said  ;  *  what's  the  matter  ? 
What  have  you  got  this  pistol  in  your  hand  for,  and 
what  is  the  matter  with  this  woman  ? ' 

**  He  put  the  pistol  out  of  sight  pretty  quick,  and 
then,  speaking  so  rapidly  that  I  could  hardly  follow 
him,  said  that  the  lady  was  the  captain's  wife.  She 
had  been  taken  ill  very  suddenly,  and  her  husband, 
seeing  my  house  so  close  to,  had  determined  to  send 
her  ashore,  and  see  if  anything  could  be  done  for  her. 

"'  That's  mighty  queer,'  I  said.  *  Why  didn't  he 
come  with  her  himself?  Look  here,  I  don't  believe 
all  this.  How  the  devil  did  he  know  that  even  though 
the  house  is  here  that  a  white  man  lives  in  it  ?  And 
I  want  to  have  a  look  at  the  woman's  face.  She  might 
be  dead  for  all  I  know.' 

"By  this  time  my  wife  and  one  of  Rotau's  wives 
had  gone  up  to  the  woman,  and  I  saw  that  although 
she  wasn't  dead  she  looked  very  like  it,  for  her  eyes 
were  closed,  and  she  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  all 
that  was  going  on.  She  was  young — about  twenty- 
five  or  so — and  was  rather  pretty. 

w  *  Please  take  her  to  your  house,'  says  the  officer, 
4  and  as  soon  as  we  have  towed  the  ship  out  of  danger 
the  captain  will  come  ashore  and  see  you.' 

" l  Hold  on,'  says  I,  and  I  grabbed  him  by  the  arm. 
*  Do  you  mean  to  say  you're  going  off  in  this  fashion, 
without  telling  me  anything  further  ?  Who  are  you, 
anyway  ?  What  is  the  ship's  name  ? ' 

"  He  hesitated  just  a  second,  and  then  said,  'The 


262     The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Maduro. 

Inca  Prince — Captain  Broughton  ;  but  I  can't  stay  to 
talk  now.  The  captain  himself  will  tell  you  about  it 
in  the  morning.  As  you  see,  his  wife  is  very  ill.  You 
will  at  least  not  refuse  to  help  in  the  matter  ? ' 

"  And  then,  before  I  could  stop  him,  he  jumped  back 
out  of  my  reach  into  the  boat,  and  the  four  sailors, 
two  of  whom  were  niggers  of  some  sort,  shoved  off, 
and  away  they  went  again. 

" c  You'd  better  tell  the  captain  to  come  ashore  at 
once,'  I  called  out  after  them  ;  but  although  he  heard 
me  plainly  enough  he  took  no  notice  of  me  beyond 
waving  his  hand 

"  Well,  we  carried  the  woman  up  to  the  house 
and  placed  her  in  a  chair,  and  the  moment  that  my 
wife  took  off  the  woollen  wrapper  that  covered  her 
head  and  shoulders  she  cried  out  that  there  was  blood 
running  down  her  neck.  And  it  didn't  take  me  long 
to  discover  that  the  woman  was  dying  from  a  bullet 
wound  in  the  back  of  her  head. 

"  We  did  all  that  we  possibly  could  for  the  poor 
thing,  but  she  never  regained  consciousness,  and 
towards  sunrise  she  died  quietly.  There  was  nothing 
about  her  clothing  to  show  who  she  was,  but  she 
wore  rings  such  as  would  belong  to  a  woman  of  some 
position.  She  appeared  to  be  twenty-six  years  of  age, 
as  I  said  ;  and  when  she  was  being  prepared  for  her 
grave  I  took  particular  notice  of  her  personal  appear- 
ance. That  she  had  been  murdered  I  could  not 
doubt,  and  perhaps  some  day,  even  after  all  these 
years,  the  crime  may  come  to  light." 

"But  what  became  of  the  ship?"  asked  the  mate 
of  the  Indiana. 

"  Out  of  sight  by  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


The  Strange  White  Woman  of  Mdduro.    263 

As  soon  as  I  saw  what  was  the  matter  with  the 
woman  I  knew  that  we  need  not  expect  to  see  any  one 
from  the  ship  back  again.  The  boats  towed  her,  I 
suppose,  all  night,  and  just  before  daylight  a  breeze 
sprang  up,  which  soon  took  her  away  from  the  land." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  true  story  of  that  woman's 
death  was  ?  "  said  Packenham,  thoughtfully,  as  he 
looked  towards  the  place  where  she  was  buried. 

"  Heaven  only  knows,"  answered  the  old  trader. 
"Whether  it  was  a  mutiny,  and  her  husband  was 
murdered,  or  whether  the  officer  who  came  ashore 
with  her  was  the  captain  himself  and  her  husband 
as  well,  I  cannot  tell.  My  own  idea  is  that  there 
was  a  mutiny,  and  that  she  had  been  shot,  perhaps 
accidentally,  in  the  struggle,  and  that  knowing  that 
she  might  possibly  recover,  the  mutineers  had  decided 
to  send  her  ashore,  rather  than  have  to  keep  her  a 
prisoner  on  board,  and  then  perhaps  kill  her  to 
prevent  the  discovery  of  their  crime.  Any  way,  I 
have  since  learnt  that  there  never  was  a  ship  named 
the  Inca  Prince.  I've  told  the  story  to  every  ship- 
master I've  met  since  that  night,  and  it  was  written 
about  a  good  deal  in  the  English  and  American  news- 
papers. Then  the  affair  was  forgotten,  and,  like  many 
another  such  thing,  the  secret  may  never  come  out." 

Presently,  following  the  old  man,  Denison  and 
Packenham  went  with  him  in  the  bright  moonlight, 
and  looking  over  the  low  white  wall  of  the  little 
cemetery,  saw  the  unknown  woman's  grave.  A  faint 
breath  of  air  swayed  the  pendulous  leaves  of  the 
surrounding  coco-palms  which  for  a  moment  rustled 
softly  together,  and  then  drooped  into  the  silence  of 
the  night. 


THE     OBSTINACT    OF 
MRS.    TATTON 


The   Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton 

THE  Indiana  of  Sydney,  Tom  de  Wolf's  trading 
brig,  lay  at  anchor  off  the  native  town  of  Niafu, 
one  of  the  Friendly  Group,  south  from  Samoa, 
when  Tatton  came  on  board.  He  was  a  short, 
thick-set,  dark-faced  man,  slow  of  speech  but  quick 
with  his  hand,  and  master  of  the  Lunalilo^  a  small 
trading  ketch  of  a  hundred  tons  or  so.  Denison 
had  made  his  acquaintance  at  Wallis  Island  about  a 
year  previously,  and  because  he  found  that  Tatton 
hated  the  intrusion  of  "the  Dutchmen,"  /.*.,  the 
Germans,  into  the  South  Seas  as  much  as  he  did 
himself,  he  made  friends  with  him,  and  they  drank 
and  smoked  together  whenever  the  two  ships  happened 
to  meet.  And  on  the  same  day  that  the  Indiana  ran 
into  Vavau  from  Fiji  the  Lunalilo  hove  in  sight  from 
the  northward,  towed  into  Niafu  Harbour  by  her 
boats,  for  the  trade  wind  had  died  away  at  sunset. 
As  Tatton's  vessel  passed  the  Indiana  her  skipper, 
who  was  standing  aft,  waved  his  hand  to  Denison  and 
called  out  to  him  and  the  captain  of  the  brig  to  come 
on  board  after  supper. 

An  hour  later,  when  their  supper  was  over  and 
Denison  and  the  captain  of  the  brig  were  about 
getting  ready  to  go  aboard  the  schooner,  the  steward 
came  below. 


268  The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton. 

"  Here's  Captain  Tatton,  gentlemen." 

They  opened  their  cabin  doors  and  shook  hands 
with  him.  The  captain  of  the  Indiana,  a  rough, 
hard-shell  old  Connecticut  Yankee  with  a  heavy  hand 
and  a  soft  heart,  looked  at  Tatton  for  a  moment,  and 
then  asked  : — 

"  What  in  thunder  is  the  matter  with  yew,  Tatton  ? 
Hev  yew  got  yaller  fever  or  the  cholery  morbus 
aboard  thet  old  hooker  ef  yours  ?  Any  one  been  and 
run  away  with  your  little  missus,  or  what  ?  " 

Tatton  attempted  to  smile  at  old  Barren's  joke,  but 
failed.  He  lifted  the  glass  of  liquor  that  the  steward 
had  poured  out  for  him  to  his  lips,  then  set  it  down 
again  on  the  table  with  shaking  hand. 

"  No  one  has  run  away  with  poor  Luisa,  Barren, 
but " — he  turned  and  stared  up  at  the  skylight,  and 
then  bent  his  head  upon  his  hand — "  but  she's  leaving 
me  all  the  same.  The  poor  girl  is  dying,  Barren. 
I  was  bound  to  the  eastward  when  I  left  Samoa, 
but  came  in  here  thinking  that  I  might  find  that 
Yankee  man-of-war,  the  Narrangansttt,  here.  She 
left  Samoa  a  couple  of  days  after  me  and  passed  me 
the  night  before  last,  steaming  very  fast.  Luisa  was 
very,  very  bad  then,  and  so  I  burnt  the  one  blue  light  I 
had  on  the  schooner,  and  my  crew  kept  firing  their 
rifles  every  few  minutes ;  but  she  was  too  far  off,  I 
suppose,  to  see  us,  or  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to 
bother  "  ;  and  the  sturdy,  bronze-faced  seaman  passed 
his  hand  wearily  over  his  face. 

In  an  instant  Barron,  the  grizzled  old  veteran  of 
thirty  years'  hardship  and  adventure  in  the  two 
Pacifies,  reached  out  his  hand  to  Tatton. 

"  That's  bad  news.    Is  there  anything  we  can  do  for 


The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton.  269 

you,  Tatton  ?  I  guess  you  reckoned  on  the  Narran- 
gansett's  doctor  ?  Is  your  wife  very  bad  ?  Denison 
here  is  a  bit  of  a  doctor.  Perhaps  he  can  help  you. 
Is  she  very  bad  ?  " 

Tatton  nodded.  "  Dying.  I  can  see  that.  I 
think  she  knows  it  too,  poor  girl.  Still,  what  can 
I  do  ?  I  wonder  if  the  Yankee  cruiser  has  gone  on 
to  Tongatabu"  (about  a  hundred  miles  further  south- 
ward). "If  I  thought  so  I  would  heave  up  again  and 
try  and  get  there  in  time." 

"  Wait  till  to-morrow,  Tatton,"  said  the  captain  of 
the  brig,  "  the  Narrangansett  will  most  likely  turn  up 
by  then.  She's  bound  to  come  in  here  first  before 
going  on  to  Tongatabu — there's  coal  waiting  for  her 
here,  I  know." 

Tatton  cheered  up  a  bit  at  this  ;  then,  after  drink- 
ing his  grog,  asked  Denison  to  go  back  to  the 
Lunalllo  with  him.  "  She'd  like  to  see  you,  I  think, 
Denison,"  he  said,  in  a  hesitating  sort  of  way. 
"Anyway  you  knew  her  and  her  family,  didn't 
you  ?  " 

"  I'll  come  with  pleasure  "  ;  and  Denison,  picking 
up  his  cap,  was  following  Tatton  on  deck  when  old 
Barron  called  him  back. 

"  Got  any  champagne  left  in  the  trade  room, 
Denison  ?  " 

"About  half  a  dozen." 

"Well,  look  here  now,  I  reckon  champagne  is  jest 
about  the  right  thing  to  take.  I  don't  know  what's 
wrong  with  the  gal,  but  whatever  it  is  yew  kin  rely 
that  champagne  is  good  fur  it.  Yew  take  the  lot, 
and  charge  it  tew  me." 

When  the  steward  handed  Denison  five  bottles  of 


2/o  The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton. 

champagne,  tied  up  in  a  basket,  the  supercargo  remem- 
bered that  only  a  year  or  so  before,  when  the  Indiana 
and  Lunalllo  were  together  at  Futuna  Island,  Tatton, 
Barren,  and  himself  had  had  an  angry  dispute  over 
a  matter  of  business,  and  that  Tatton,  with  blazing 
eyes,  had  told  the  grizzled  old  skipper  of  the  brig  that 
he  was  "  too  blarsted  mean  to  live,  like  all  Down-East 
Yanks." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Tatton's  ketch  lay  closer  in  to  the  shore  than 
the  brig,  but  the  distance  between  them  was  short. 
As  the  native  crew  sent  the  boat  over  the  stilled, 
starlit  water  Denison  looked  at  Tatton,  who  kept 
silent.  He  could  see  that,  rude  and  rough  as  was  the 
man's  nature,  he  was  suffering.  Only  a  few  months 
before  their  first  meeting  at  Wallis  Island,  Tatton 
had  married  the  youngest  daughter  of  an  old  trader 
living  on  one  of  the  Navigators  Islands — a  delicate- 
looking,  child-like  creature,  who,  were  she  in  civilisa- 
tion, would  hardly  have  left  the  nursery.  And  since 
then  Tatton,  the  hard-drinking,  quarrelsome  skipper 
whose  chief  argument  in  any  dispute  was  his  fist — and 
he  had  many  arguments  on  a  variety  of  subjects — had 
undergone  a  wonderful  change  and  acquired  an  extra- 
ordinary renown  ;  in  brief,  he  became  that  rare  fish 
in  Polynesian  seas,  a  moral  trading  captain. 

Luisa,  born  of  a  Manhikian  mother  by  a  white 
father,  was  lying  on  a  bed  of  soft  mats  spread  on  the 
cabin  floor.  By  her  side  was  a  native  sailor  fanning 
her,  for  the  cabin  was  close  and  stuffy.  Seated  on  the 
transoms  a  few  feet  further  off  was  another  seaman, 
a  big,  sallow-faced  native  of  Manhiki.  He  was 


The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton.  271 

nursing  a  baby.  He  looked  stolidly  at  Denison  and 
Tatton  for  a  moment,  then  bent  his  face  over  that 
of  the  sleeping  child. 

"  She  is  asleep,"  said  the  man  beside  her  in  a 
whisper.  Tatton  silently  motioned  Denison  to  a  seat, 
and  then  spoke  in  a  whisper. 

"  Born  just  as  we  passed  Beveridge  Reef  four  days 
ago,"  and  he  pointed  over  to  where  the  big  Manhiki 
man  sat  solemnly  swaying  the  infant  to  and  fro.  u  I 
brought  her  away  from  Aitutake  because  she  wanted  to 
get  back  to  Samoa  to  her  mother  and  her  people.  So 
I  closed  up  the  station  at  Aitutake  and  brought  her 
aboard.  Such  rotten  luck  you  never  saw.  Head 
winds  and  calms,  calms  and  head  winds,  for  nearly  a 
month  ;  and  then  just  off  Beveridge " 

Here  the  girl  moved  and  awoke. 

"  Lu,"  said  Tatton,  bending  over  her,  "  here  is  an 
old  friend  of  your  father's." 

The  girl  looked  at  Denison,  then  put  out  her  slender 
hand  and  said  in  her  mother's  tongue,  in  a  voice 
scarce  above  a  whisper,  "  Ah,  yes,  I  remember  you. 
Have  you  forgotten  the  day  when  you  and  my  father 
and  brothers  went  to  Apia  to  ihefa'atau  tui  (auction) 
and  Alvord,  the  big  American  who  rapped  on  the 
table  with  a  hammer,  gave  me  a  dressed-up  doll  ? " — 
and  she  smiled  faintly. 

That  was  nearly  eight  years  ago.  How  it  all  came 
back  to  him  !  Fat,  jolly  old  Alvord,  selling  a  miscel- 
laneous lot  of  goods  in  an  Apian  resident's  house,  and 
the  strange,  motley  crowd  that  surrounded  him ; 
among  them  this  girl's  father,  his  sons  and  Denison 
himself.  And  he  remembered,  too,  a  little  girl  of  about 


272  The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton. 

ten  coming  in  at  the  door,  dressed  in  European  style 
and  smiling  at  him  ;  and  old  Ned,  her  father, 
bringing  her  over  to  him  and  telling  him  it  was  his 
little  girl,  "  runned  down  from  the  Sisters  where 
she  was  a-schoolin'  to  see  her  brothers  "  ;  then  when 
the  faatau  tut  was  over  how  the  old  dried-up  trader, 
his  stalwart  sons,  the  little  girl  and  he,  all  walked 
up  to  the  French  Mission  and  gave  the  runaway  back 
to  the  good  Sisters.  And  here  she  was  now,  a 
mother,  and  dying. 

The  big  sailor  came  over  beside  her  and  squatted 
cross-legged  on  the  mats.  Tatton  placed  his  arm 
around  her  and  raised  her  up  to  look  at  the  hideous 
little  bundle  of  mortality  in  his  arms. 

"  What  an  ugly  little  aitu  (devil)  it  is  !  "  she  said  to 
Tatton  in  Samoan,  as  the  Manihiki  man  placed  it  on 
the  mat  within  touch. 

Tatton  turned  to  Denison  with  something  like  a 
smile.  "By  God,  she's  pulling  herself  together  again  ! 
If  that  cruiser  would  only  show  up  I'd  give  the  ship 
and  cargo."  Then  he  opened  the  wine  and  gave  her 
a  glass. 

Denison  stayed  another  hour  or  so,  and  then  left 
them,  bearing  in  his  mind  the  picture  of  the  slight 
figure  of  the  girl,  who  had  again  fallen  asleep  under 
the  effects  of  the  wine,  lying  motionless  on  the  couch 
of  mats  ;  the  big  man-nurse,  and  Puniola,  the  Savage 
Island  sailor,  softly  waving  his  fan  over  the  wan 
features ;  and  Tatton,  with  his  sun-browned  face, 
resting  on  his  hand,  gazing  intently  down  upon  the 
sleeper. 

t  •  .  •  • 

The  morning  mists  had  just  begun  to  shift  from  the 


The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton.  273 

hills  of  Niafu  when  Barren  and  his  supercargo  saw  the 
long,  black  hull  of  the  Narrangansett  steaming  up  the 
harbour.  She  was  one  of  the  famed  "ninety-day 
ships,"  and  made  a  brave  show  as  she  cut  aside  the 
calm  waters  and  brought  up  a  couple  of  hundred  yards 
astern  of  the  Indiana.  Her  anchor  had  barely  touched 
the  ground  when  they  saw  Tatton's  boat  pull  along- 
side, and  in  another  five  minutes  leave  again  with 
another  man  seated  beside  Tatton,  and  pull  hard 
for  the  Lunalilo. 

"  Waal,  now,  look  at  that,"  said  the  Grizzled  One 
to  Denison,  as  they  sat  sipping  their  coffee  on  the 
skylight ;  "  there's  a  man  that,  for  the  past  ten  years, 
has  been  up  tew  all  kinds  of  red-hot  cussedness,  plain 
and  decorated,  nigger-catchin',  women-buyin',  and 
sich  like  Island  fixin's  ;  and,  as  sure  as  I  ain't  one  of 
the  saved,  but  he's  jest  a  turned  man,  all  over  that  slip 
of  a  yaller  girl.  Land  alive  !  But  he  must  think  a 
lot  of  her — to  hev  the  front  tew  pull  the  doctor 
outer  of  his  bunk  before  coffee  in  the  morning  !  " 

They  had  finished  their  coffee  and  were  watching 
the  movements  of  those  on  board  the  steamer  when 
the  Lunalilo's  boat  again  left  her  side  and  pulled 
over  to  the  brig,  with  only  two  men  in  her.  They 
bumped  up  alongside,  and  one  jumped  on  deck  and 
gave  Denison  a  note  from  Tatton. 

"  Come  on  board  as  quick  as  you  can.  Bring 
Allan  with  you." 

Allan  was  the  boatswain,  a  Manaiki  half-caste. 
Wondering  what  was  wrong,  Denison  called  him 
and  got  in  the  boat  and  went  aboard.  The  moment 
they  gained  the  deck  Tatton  met  them  looking 

19 


274  The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatfon. 

pale  and  excited.  The  doctor  of  the  man-of-war 
was  sitting  on  deck,  smoking  a  cigar. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  he  asked  Tatton. 

"  Bad,  my  lad  ;  and  the  doctor  says  that  unless  he 
can  attend  to  her  at  once  she  cannot  possibly  live  more 
than  a  few  days." 

"  Well,"  Denison  asked  wonderingly,  "  why  doesn't 
he  ?  " 

"  Because  she  won't  let  him.  Says  she'd  rather  die 
ten  times  over  first.  You  know  what  a  curious  sort 
of  modesty  native  women  have  about  some  things. 
Well,  as  soon  as  ever  the  doctor  came  on  board — of 
course  I'd  told  him  as  far  as  my  knowledge  went  what 
was  wrong — I  told  her  he  would  soon  put  her  right. 
She  sat  up  and  commenced  to  cry,  and  said  she 
wouldn't  have  him  ;  and  the  moment  I  went  on  deck 
to  call  the  doctor  down  that  big  Manihiki  buck  lifted 
her  up  and  carried  her  into  my  cabin,  put  the 
youngster  in  with  her,  and  then  locked  the  door. 
Now,  he's  standing  guard  outside.  The  fool  says 
he'll  kill  any  one  that  tries  to  open  it.  You  see 
he's  a  kind  of  a  far-away  cousin  of  the  family  on 
the  mother's  side.  That's  why  I  asked  you  to  bring 
Allan.  Perhaps  he  can  talk  Rivi  over  into " 

Allan  shook  his  head.  "  It's  no  use,  Captain  Tat- 
ton," he  said  in  English.  "  If  you  like  I'll  go  down 
and  scruff  Rivi  and  sling  him  on  deck  ;  but  I'll  take 
his  place  if  your  wife  wants  me  to  keep  out  the 
doctor." 

"  Curse  you  for  a  wooden-headed  kanaka  !  "  said 
Tatton.  "  Don't  I  tell  you  she's  got  to  die  if  she  won't 
see  the  doctor  ?  " 

"Look  here,  Captain  Tatton,"  said  the  big  half- 


The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton.  275 

caste  again,  "you  ought  to  known  enough  of  native 
ways  by  this  time  to  know  that  no  man  can  aid  your 
wife.  Take  her  ashore  here  to  some  of  the  old 
Tongan  women  and  see  what  they  can  do  for  her. 
She'd  be  disgraced  for  life  if  you  force  a  doctor  on 
her,  and  she  knows  it." 

Poor  Tatton  was  half  mad.  With  Denison  he 
went  to  the  doctor  and  explained.  He  was  a  good- 
natured  man  and  listened  quietly. 

"I  will  wait  here  another  hour — two  hours,"  he 
said,  "  if  you  think  she  will  change  her  mind.  If 
she  won't  I  think  you  can't  do  better  than  take 
this  man's  advice,"  pointing  to  Allan,  "and  let  her 
be  attended  by  some  native  women.  They  may 
save  her  life,  but  I  doubt  it.  It's  a  surgical  case." 

Then  he  sat  down  again  and  went  on  smoking. 

Allan  went  down  below,  and  his  huge  country- 
man and  he  talked.  Then  Allan  called  to  the 
white  men  to  come  down,  except  the  doctor,  and 
the  big  man  opened  the  door  and  let  them  in. 
Luisa  was  lying  in  Tatton's  bunk,  clasping  his 
hideous  little  effigy  to  her  bosom. 

"  Lu,"  said  Tatton,  placing  her  hand  on  his  arm, 
and  speaking  in  English,  "  do  you  understand  that  if 
you  will  not  let  the  American  fo'mai  attend  to  you 
that  you  will  die  ?  Is  it  not  so  ? "  turning  to  Allan 
and  Denison. 

The  girl's  big  frightened  eyes  sought  theirs  to 
read  the  answer,  and  then  slowly  closed.  She  lay 
quiet  a  moment  or  so  while  the  tears  welled  out 
and  coursed  down  her  cheeks. 


276  The  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton. 

"E  pule  le  Atua"  she  said  at  last.  ("It  is 
God's  will  if  I  die.") 

"  Mrs.  Tatton,"  said  Denison,  "  don't  you  want  to 
see  your  brothers  and  sisters  again  ?  Why  are  you 
ashamed  ?  In  papalagi  (the  white  man's  land),  when 
a  child  is  born  and  a  woman  is  sick  to  death,  it  is  the 
custom  of  all  women  to  have  with  them  a  foma'i  to 
save  them  from  death." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  know.  Tatton  hath 
told  me  that  many  times.  But  what  woman  but  a 
shameless  one  would  suffer  such  a  thing  ? " 

•  .  •  .  • 

The  doctor's  step  sounded  overhead.  Rivi,  the  "far- 
away cousin,"  with  a  dangerous  look  in  his  eye,  shoved 
past  the  white  men  and  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
bunk.  Allan,  speaking  in  Manhikian  to  him,  said, 
"  Have  no  fear,"  and  he  went  out  again.  Poor  devil, 
a  perfect  slave  to  Tatton  at  any  other  time,  he 
was  ready  to  lay  his  life  down  in  defence  of  this 
ever-so-distant  cousin  before  she  should  be  "made 
ashamed." 

Tatton  and  Denison  went  on  deck  again,  defeated. 
The  doctor  said  he  would  send  some  medicine — all  he 
could  do.  As  he  stood  in  the  gangway  lighting 
another  cigar  he  said,  in  answer  to  Tatton  :  "  Oh, 
yes  ;  give  her  a  glass  of  champagne  now  and  then  ; 
it'll  keep  her  alive  a  little  longer,  and  do  no  harm." 

Denison  went  away  with  the  doctor,  leaving  Allan 
to  help  Tatton  take  his  wife  ashore  to  the  native 
women  doctors  of  Niafu  village. 

.  .  •  •  • 

Two  days  afterwards  Luisa  died.  After  the  burial 
Tatton  went  off  to  the  Narrangansett^  and  the  doctor 


'I he  Obstinacy  of  Mrs.   Tatton.  277 

improvised  a  cunningly  contrived  feeding  bottle  with 
a  thick  rubber  tube  for  the  little  Tatton,  and  gave  him 
a  couple  of  dozen  tins  of  condensed  milk  "  to  tucker  the 
kid,"  as  Tatton  expressed  it,  "  till  he  could  leave  it 
with  its  mother's  folks." 

And  just  as  the  shrill  whistles  of  the  boatswain's 
mates  piped  hands  to  supper  on  the  war-ship,  the 
Lunalllo  hove  up  anchor,  and  with  Tatton  at  the 
wheel,  payed  off  before  the  first  puffs  of  the  land-breeze. 
Seated  between  the  up-ended  flaps  of  the  skylight  was 
the  big,  sallow-faced  native  sailor  with  Luisa's  legacy 
in  his  lap. 


DR.  LUDWIG  SCHJVALBE,  SOUTH 

SEA   SAVANT 


Dr.    Ludwig    Schivalbe,   South 
Sea    Savant 


THE  Palestine^  ot  Sydney,  island  trading  brig,  was 
beating  northward  along  the  eastern  shore  of  New 
Ireland,  or  as  the  great  island  is  now  called  by  its 
German  possessors,  Neu  Mecklenburg,  when,  going 
about  in  a  stiff  squall,  the  jib-sheet  block  carried  away 
and  disorganised  the  internal  economy  of  Thomas 
Rogers,  able  seaman,  to  such  an  extent  that  his 
sorrowing  shipmates  thought  him  like  to  die.  Later 
on,  however,  Denison,  the  supercargo — who,  by  virtue 
of  having  amputated  a  sailor-man's  leg  in  Samoa, 
was  held  by  the  crew  of  the  Palestine  and  the  general 
run  of  island  traders  to  be  a  mighty  smart  doctor 
— made  a  careful  examination  of  the  damaged  seaman, 
said  that  only  three  ribs  were  broken,  and  that  if 
Rogers  only  kept  up  his  normal  appetite  he  would 
get  better. 

But  that  evening  it  fell  a  dead  calm,  and  a  heavy 
mountainous  swell  came  in  from  the  eastward,  and  the 
Palestine  "nearly  rolled  her  poor  old  soul  out,"  as 
Packenham,  the  skipper,  expressed  it.  And  for  three 
days  never  a  breath  of  air  rippled  the  hot,  steamy 


a8i 


282  Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe^ 

surface  of  the  ocean,  and  Rogers,  A.B.,  took  a  bad 
turn  and  couldn't  eat. 

"We'll  have  to  put  him  ashore  somewhere,  Pack- 
enham,"  said  the  supercargo  ;  "  he'll  die  if  we  keep 
him  on  board,  especially  if  this  calm  keeps  up." 

"Can't  put  him  ashore  anywhere  about  here. 
There's  no  white  man  living  anywhere  on  the  east 
coast  of  New  Ireland,  and  the  niggers  are  a  bad  lot.  If 
we  were  on  the  west  side  we  could  soon  run  down  to 
Mioko,  on  the  Duke  of  York  Island,  and  leave  him 
there  with  the  missionaries.  If  we  get  a  breeze  we 
can  get  there  in  a  day  or  so." 

But  luck  was  against  them,  for  although  a  feint 
breeze  did  spring  up  in  the  middle  watch,  it  came 
from  the  south-east — dead  ahead  as  far  as  Duke  of 
York  Island  was  concerned  ;  and  poor  Rogers  was 
getting  worse. 

Denison  was  lying  propped  up  against  the  after- 
flap  of  the  skylight  smoking  his  pipe,  and  looking 
at  the  misty  outlines  of  the  mountainous  shore  that  lay 
ten  miles  away  on  the  port  hand,  when  he  heard 
the  captain's  cheery  voice  : 

"Come  here,  Den,  as  quick  as  you  like."  And 
then,  "Tell  Ransom  to  square  away  for  that  camel- 
backed  island  right  abeam  of  us." 

"  Here  we  are !  Just  the  very  thing,"  said  the 
skipper,  as  soon  as  Denison  entered  the  cabin,  pointing 
to  the  chart  spread  out  on  the  table.  "See  ?  Gerrit 
Deny's  Island,  only  twenty  miles  to  leeward.  There's 
a  German  doctor  living  there.  I  wonder  I  never 
thought  of  him  before.  That's  our  dart.  We  can 
put  Rogers  ashore  there  and  pick  him  up  when  we 
come  back  from  the  Carolines." 


South  Sea  Savant.  283 

"  A  German  doctor  !  What  the  deuce  is  he  doing 
on  Gerrit  Deny's  ?  No  trading  ships  go  there. 
There's  no  copra  there,  no  pearl-shell — nothing 
but  a  pack  of  woolly-haired  Papuan  niggers  who  are 
always  fighting,  and  ready  to  eat  a  man  without  salt. 
We  couldn't  leave  Rogers  there !  " 

"That's  all  right,  Den,  don't  you  worry,"  said 
Packenham,  serenely.  "  I  know  all  about  Gerrit 
Deny's — Nebarra  the  niggers  call  it,  and  I've  heard 
of  this  Dutch  doctor  pretty  often.  He's  a  bug-hunter 
— catches  insects  and  things,  and  wears  specs.  He'll 
look  after  Rogers  right  enough." 

"  All  right,"  said  Denison,  dubiously  ;  "  I  suppose 
he'll  stand  a  better  chance  there  than  by  staying 
aboard." 

When  daylight  came  the  Palestine  brought-to 
under  a  high,  wooded  bluff  on  the  lee-side  of  the 
island,  and  dropped  her  anchor,  and  the  mate  got 
ready  to  take  Rogers  ashore  in  the  whaleboat.  The 
island  was  a  wild  but  picturesque-looking  spot, 
rugged  and  uneven  in  its  outlines,  but  clad  in  a  dense 
mass  of  verdant  forest,  stretching  from  the  narrow 
strip  of  palm-covered  littoral  that  fringed  its  snow- 
white  oeach,  away  up  to  the  very  summits  of  its 
mist-enwrapped  mountains,  three  thousand  feet  above. 
Just  abreast  of  the  Palestine  the  thickly-clustering 
grey-thatched  huts  of  a  native  village  showed  their 
saddle-backed  gables  from  out  a  dense  grove  of 
banana  trees,  and  five  minutes  after  the  brig's  anchor 
had  plunged  to  its  coral  bed,  a  swarm  of  black-skinned, 
woolly-haired  savages  rushed  to  and  fro  about  the 
beach  launching  their  canoes,  with  that  silent  activity 


284  £>r.  Ludivig  Schivalbe, 

peculiar  to  some  of  the  Melanesian  tribes.  Inland, 
some  distance  from  the  grey-thatched  houses,  a 
mountain  torrent  showed  here  and  there  a  silver  line 
amid  the  green.  Farther  away  to  the  northern  point, 
and  apart  from  the  village,  stood  a  large  house  enclosed 
by  a  high  stockade  of  coconut  logs.  This  was  the 
white  man's  dwelling,  and  soon  the  people  on  the  brig 
saw  the  figure  of  a  man  dressed  in  European  clothes 
issue  from  the  door,  walk  out  to  a  tall  flag-pole  that 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  great  stockade,  and  bend  on 
a  flag  to  the  halliards  ;  then  presently  the  banner  of 
Germany  was  run  aloft. 

"That's  him,"  said  Packenham,  who  was  looking 
through  his  glasses,  "  and,  hallo,  easy  with  that  boat. 
I  think  he's  coming  off  to  us.  I  can  see  some  natives 
hauling  his  own  boat  down  to  the  beach.  That's 
bully.  We  can  send  Rogers  ashore  with  him  straight 
away  and  then  clear  out." 

Ten  minutes  afterward  the  "  bug-hunter,"  as 
Packenham  called  him,  came  on  board,  and  shook 
hands  with  them.  He  was  not  at  all  a  professional- 
looking  man.  First  of  all,  he  wore  no  boots,  and  his 
pants  and  jumper  of  coarse  dungaree  were  exceedingly 
and  marvellously  ill-fitting  and  dirty.  A  battered 
Panama  hat  of  great  age  flopped  about  and  almost 
concealed  his  red-bearded  face,  in  a  disheartened  sort 
of  manner,  as  if  trying  to  apologise  for  the  rest  of 
his  apparel ;  the  thin  gold-rimmed  spectacles  he  wore 
made  a  curious  and  protestingly  civilised  contrast  to 
his  bare  and  dirty  feet.  His  manner,  however,  was 
that  of  a  man  perfectly  at  ease  with  himself,  and  his 
clear,  steely  blue  eyes,  showed  courage  and  deter- 
mination. 


South  Sea  Savant.  285 

He  listened  with  much  gravity  to  the  tale  of  the 
disaster  that  had  befallen  the  ribs  of  Rogers,  A.B. ;  but 
objected  in  a  thick,  woolly  kind  of  voice  to  the  task  of 
undertaking  to  cure  him  on  shore.  He  had  not  the 
time,  he  said.  But  he  would  see  what  he  could  do 
there  and  then. 

Then  the  captain  and  the  supercargo  sought  by 
much  hospitality  to  make  him  change  his  mind,  and 
said  it  would  be  a  hard  thing  for  poor  Rogers  to  die  on 
board,  when  his  life  could  be  so  easily  saved.  And  he 
had  a  mother  and  nine  young  brothers  and  sisters  to 
keep.  (This  was  a  harmless  but  kindly-meant  fiction.) 

The  cold  blue  eyes  looked  at  them  searchingly  for  a 
few  moments — "  Veil,  I  vill  dry  vat  I  gan  do.  But  if 
he  dies  you  must  nod  blame  me  mit.  I  vas  vonce  a 
dogtor  ;  but  I  haf  nod  bractised  vor  a  long  dimes 
aow.  I  vas  ein  naduraliz  now." 

Then  whilst  Denison  got  ready  a  few  acceptable 
gifts  from  his  trade-room,  such  as  a  couple  of  cases 
of  beer,  and  some  tinned  meats  to  put  in  the  boat,  the 
German  conversed  pleasantly  with  the  skipper.  He 
had  been,  so  he  told  Packenham,  one  of  the  medical 
staff  of  the  ill-fated  Nouvelle  France  expedition, 
organised  by  the  Marquis  de  Ray  to  colonise  the 
island  of  New  Ireland.  The  disastrous  collapse  of 
that  venture  under  the  combined  influences  of  too 
much  drunken  hilarity  and  jungle  fever,  however, 
and  the  dispersal  of  the  survivors,  decided  him  to 
remain  in  the  islands,  and  follow  his  entomological 
and  ethnographical  pursuits,  to  which,  he  added,  he 
was  now  entirely  devoted. 

"Does  it  pay  you,  doctor?"  asked  Packenham, 
with  some  interest. 


286  Dr.  Ludwlg 


He  shrugged  his  shoulders  —  "Veil,  id  vill  bay  me 
by  und  by  —  ven  I  ged  mine  moneys  from  dose 
zientific  zocieties  in  Germany  und  oder  Gontinental 
goundries.  I  haf  got  me  no  assistant,  und  derefore  id 
dakes  me  a  long  dimes  mine  specimens  to  brebare." 

"  What  is  your  particular  work  just  now,  doctor  ?  " 
said  the  captain,  filling  his  guest's  glass  again. 

"  At  bresend  I  am  studying  der  habids  of  der 
gommon  green  durdles." 

"  Green  turtle  ?     Oh,  indeed." 

"  Yes  ;  der  is  mooch  zientific  droubles  mid  green 
durdles.  A  grade  many  beobles  say  dot  dose  green 
durdles  are  like  zeals  —  dot  they  fights  und  quarrels 
mit  one  anoder  in  der  incubading  season  —  dot  is  dose 
male  durdles.  Und  dere  is  a  grade  English  naturalizd 
who  haf  wrote  somedings  aboud  having  seen  two  male 
durdles  fight  mit  each  oder  viles  der  female  durdle 
stood  by  drembling  in  her  shell  mit  fear.  Und  I  vant 
do  prove  dot  dot  man  is  ein  dam  fool.  Der  male 
green  durdle  never  fights  vor  der  bossession  of  der 
female  —  So  !  Dey  haf  nod  god  der  amatory  insdincks 
of  der  zeal,  vich  leads  der  male  zeals  to  engage  in 
ploody  combats  vor  de  bossession  of  der  female  zeal. 
I  haf  mineself  seen  ein  female  zeal  lying  down  on  a 
rock  mit,  und  vatching  der  males  shoost  fighting  vor 
her  undil  der  veakest  one  dropped  dead  ;  und  den  off 
she  vent  mid  der  besd  man.  Ach  !  id  is  only 
anoder  examples  of  brude  sdrength  condending  for  der 
bossession  of  female  beaudy." 

"  Perfectly  true,  Dr.  Schwalbe.  I  have  very  often 
seen  the  fierce  combats  of  which  you  speak,"  said 
Packenham,  and  then,  being  much  interested,  he  said 
he  should  like  to  go  ashore  and  see  the  doctor's 


South  Sea  Savant.  287 

collection  ;  but  the  German,  with  a  quick  glance 
at  him  through  his  spectacles,  said — 

"  B lease  do  not  drouble.  I  moosd  now  ged  on 
shore,  so  blease  put  dot  zailormans  in  my  boat,  und 
I  vill  dry  and  gure  him." 

A  few  minutes  afterward  the  "  bug-hunter "  and 
student  of  the  moral  habits  of  green  turtle  had  gone 
ashore,  taking  Rogers,  A.B.,  with  him ;  and  the 
Palestine  was  heeling  over  to  the  now  freshening 
trade  wind  as  she  stretched  away  northward  to  the 

Carolines. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  German  doctor  was  very  kind  to  Rogers  in 
a  quiet,  solemn  kind  of  a  way.  The  natives,  too, 
seemed  pleased  to  have  another  white  man  among 
them,  and  crowded  about  the  German's  door  when  he 
and  his  patient  (who  was  carried  up  from  the  boat) 
entered  the  house.  But  after  a  while  they  were  sent 
away,  and  Tom  Rogers  had  a  chance  to  study  his 
surroundings  and  his  host,  and  the  interior  of  the 
house,  which  presented  a  curious  appearance. 

Instead  of  boxes  of  trade  goods,  such  as  gin,  axes, 
muskets,  powder,  and  tobacco,  taking  up  most  of  the 
space,  there  were  a  number  of  casks  of  various  sizes 
ranged  in  a  line,  and  at  one  end  of  the  room  a  long 
table,  on  which  lay  surgical  instruments,  bottles  of 
chemicals,  cotton-wool,  and  other  articles.  On  a 
shelf  above  were  a  number  of  large  bottles,  bearing 
the  inscription,  "  Pyroligneous  Acid.  Burroughs, 
Wellcome  &  Co." 

"  What  the  deuce  can  he  want  all  that  bottled 
smoke  for,  I  wonder  ?  "  said  Rogers  to  himself,  who 
knew  that  many  traders  in  the  Solomon  Islands  used 


288  Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe^ 

pyroligneous  acid  for  curing  pork.  "  Perhaps,"  he 
thought,  "  he's  curing  bacon  ;  but  what  the  devil 
does  he  do  with  it?  He  can't  eat  it  all  him- 
self." 

At  the  back  of  the  big  room  was  a  smaller  sleeping 
apartment,  and  when  evening  came  the  young  seaman 
was  carried  there  by  his  host's  servants.  Then  the 
door  was  shut,  and  Rogers  heard  the  clink  of  bottles 
and  sound  of  water  splashing  long  into  the  night. 

At  one  end  of  the  spacious  area  enclosed  within  the 
stockade,  and  almost  adjoining  the  doctor's  dwelling- 
house,  was  a  long,  rambling,  hog-backed  native  house, 
quite  fifty  feet  in  length,  and  bearing  a  great  resem- 
blance to  the  big  canoe  houses  which  Rogers  had  seen 
in  the  Gilbert  Islands.  This  house,  he  learned  later 
on,  contained  some  of  the  most  interesting  of  the 
doctor's  ethnological  and  ethnographical  specimens. 

Although,  as  he  had  told  Packenham,  he  had  no 
assistant,  he  had  living  with  him  three  or  four 
Manilla-men  helpers,  short  built,  taciturn  fellows, 
who  lived  in  a  house  of  their  own  within  the 
stockade,  and  never  associated  with  the  natives  of 
the  island.  These  men,  so  the  savant  told  Rogers, 
had  been  sent  to  him  from  the  East  Indies  by  a 
brother  ethnologist,  but  their  want  of  intelligence 
rendered  them,  he  said,  quite  useless,  except  in  the 
mere  matter  of  collecting  specimens. 

For  some  days  Rogers  remained  in  bed,  carefully 
waited  upon  by  his  spectacled  host,  who  said  he  would 
soon  recover. 

"  Und  den,"  he  said,  "  ven  you  are  quide  sdrong 
again  mit,  you  shall  help  me  in  mine  business." 

Rogers   was   grateful,   and   said    he    would    do   so 


South  Sea  Savant.  289 

gladly,  and  as  the  days  went  by  he  became  really 
anxious  to  show  his  gratitude.  During  conversation 
with  the  German  he  had  learnt  that  the  natives  of 
Gerrit  Deny's  were  then  engaged  in  a  sanguinary 
civil  war,  and  that  almost  every  day  several  men  were 
killed  and  decapitated. 

So  far  the  seaman  had  visited  neither  the  doctor's 
"  vorkshop  " — the  business-like  apartment  which  ad- 
joined the  sleeping-rooms — nor  the  big  outhouse,  but 
in  another  week  or  so  he  had  so  far  recovered  that  he 
was  able  to  leave  his  bed  and  walk  about.  On  the 
evening  of  the  first  day  after  this  he  sat  down  to 
supper  with  his  host,  who  conversed  very  affably 
with  him,  and  told  him  that  though  at  first  he  was 
very  much  averse  to  having  another  white  man  on 
the  island,  perhaps  it  was  best  after  all.  It  was  very 
lonely,  he  said,  and  he  often  wanted  some  one  to  talk 
to  when  business  was  dull.  And  perhaps,  he  added, 
Rogers  would  be  glad  of  a  little  money  which  he 
would  give  him  for  his  assistance. 

Amongst  other  things  Rogers  learnt  that  his  host 
had  been  exceedingly  exasperated  by  a  native  teacher 
from  New  Britain  landing  on  the  island  some  twelve 
months  previously.  The  man  himself,  he  said,  was 
nothing  but  an  ignorant  savage,  and  his  wife,  who 
was  a  native  of  Gerrit  Deny's  Island,  no  better. 
The  white  missionaries  at  New  Britain  had,  it 
appeared,  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  of  sending  to 
the  island  a  teacher  whose  wife  could  converse  with 
the  people  in  her  own  tongue. 

"  But,"  said  Rogers,  "  I  should  think  you  would  be 
rather  glad  of  at  least  having  two  people  on  the  island 
who  call  themselves  Christians.  I  know  that  the 

20 


290  Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe, 

missionaries  have  done  a  lot  of  good  on  New  Britain. 
I  lived  there  and  know  it." 

The  doctor  assented  to  that  ;  but  said  there  was 
no  use  in  sending  a  teacher  to  Gerrit  Deny's ;  then 
he  added — 

"  Und  dis  fellow  vas  alvays  inderfering  mit  mine 
business." 

This  interference  Rogers  subsequently  learned  was 
that  the  native  teacher  had  been  telling  the  islanders 
that  they  should  not  sell  the  doctor  such  simple 
objects  of  interest  as  skulls.  But  as  he  had  not  yet 
made  one  single  convert,  no  one  took  any  heed  of 
him,  and,  indeed,  his  wife,  whose  conversion  from 
heathenism  was  by  no  means  solid,  had  at  once 
reverted  to  the  customs  of  her  people  as  soon  as  she 
returned  to  them,  and  casting  aside  the  straw  hat, 
blue  blouse,  and  red  petticoat  of  Christianity,  promptly 
bartered  them  to  an  admiring  relative  for  a  stick  of 
the  doctor's  tobacco,  a  liking  for  which  was  her 
ruling  passion,  and  which  could  only  be  gratified  by 
selling  vegetables,  fruit,  or  specimens  to  the  white  man. 

One  morning  as  Rogers  was  strolling  about  the 
grassy  sward  inside  the  stockade  he  heard  some  one  call 
out  "  Good  morning  "  to  him,  and  looking  up  he  saw 
a  native,  partly  clad  in  European  costume,  smiling  and 
beckoning  to  him  from  the  other  side.  Walking 
over,  Rogers  was  at  once  proffered  a  brown  hand, 
which  the  owner  thrust  through  a  chink  in  the 
coconut  posts. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Rogers.    "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

u  Me  missionary.  What  for  you  no  come  see  me 
my  house  ?  What  for  you  stop  here  with  German 
man  ?  He  bad  man  ;  yes,  very  bad  man." 


South  Sea  Savant.  291 

"  Why  ? "  asked  Rogers,  with  a  good-natured  laugh. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  native  repeated  with  emphatic 
earnestness,  "  he  no  good.  You  come  my  house  some 

day,  then  I  tell  you "  and  then  catching  sight  of 

the  doctor  coming  over  to  Rogers  he  took  to  his  heels 
and  disappeared  in  the  surrounding  coconut  grove. 

The  doctor  seemed  annoyed  when  Rogers  told  him 
who  had  been  talking  to  him,  and  again  said  that  the 
teacher  was  a  meddlesome  fellow,  and  then,  with  a  sly 
twinkle  of  fun  in  his  eyes,  added — 

"Look  over  dere,  mein  friend,  dot  lady  standing 
mit  her  back  against  der  coconut  tree  is  der  vife  of 
der  kanaka  glergyman  on  Gerrit  Deny's  Island.  She 
haf  come  to  zell  me  yams  and  preadfruits  for  tobacco. 
Ach  !  she  is  a  grade  gustomer  of  mine,  is  dot  voman." 

Rogers  looked  with  some  interest  at  the  lady — a 
huge,  half-nude,  woolly-headed  creature,  with  lips 
reddened  by  chewing  betel-nut  and  a  curved  piece  of 
human  bone  thrust  through  the  cartilage  of  her  wide, 
flat  nose. 

Taking  no  notice  of  the  strange  white  man,  she 
addressed  herself  volubly  to  the  doctor,  who  seemed  to 
understand  her  perfectly,  and  then  giving  her  a  stick 
of  tobacco  for  the  vegetables  that  lay  at  her  feet,  he 
told  her  to  go,  and  then  with  Rogers  went  inside  to 
take  a  cup  of  coffee. 

Directly  in  front  of  the  doctor's  house,  but  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  bay,  was  a  small  village,  and  as  the 
two  men  sat  smoking  after  drinking  their  coffee, 
Rogers  noticed  a  canoe  crossing  and  pointed  it  out  to 
his  host,  who  at  once  got  his  glasses  and  took  a  long 
look  at  the  approaching  craft.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
companion  with  a  pleased  expression,  and  said  that  the 


292  Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe, 

"  glergyman's  vife,"  as  he  persistently  called  the  horror 
he  had  shown  Rogers,  had  not  lied  to  him  after  all. 
She  had,  he  said,  told  him  that  a  party  of  her  relatives, 
living  across  the  bay,  were  that  day  bringing  him  over 
a  "specimen,"  for  which  he  had  previously  treated 
with  them  but  failed  to  obtain,  owing  to  the  outbreak 
of  hostilities  and  the  diverse  claims  of  various  members 
of  the  family  who  owned  the  specimen  in  question. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  canoe  drew  up  on  the  beach, 
and  whilst  two  of  the  crew  carried  the  "  specimen," 
which,  if  not  heavy,  was  bulky,  up  to  the  doctor's 
house,  the  remainder  sat  in  the  canoe,  took  whiffs 
from  the  huge  bamboo  pipe,  which  was  common 
property,  and  stared  at  the  new  white  man  standing 
beside  Dr.  Schwalbe. 

Presently  the  doctor  left  Rogers  to  meet  the  natives 
who  carried  the  burden,  which  in  a  few  minutes  more 
was  carefully  brought  into  the  house,  and  the  seaman 
watched  the  process  of  untying  the  bundle  with 
interest — then  he  drew  back  in  horror  as  a  grinning 
mummy  was  revealed  with  its  knees  drawn  nearly  up 
to  its  chin  and  kept  in  position  there  by  a  thin  piece 
of  coir  cinnet. 

Schwalbe  bent  down  and  examined  the  thing  with 
keen  interest,  and  then,  apparently  satisfied  with  his 
inspection,  began  to  bargain  with  the  specimen's 
father,  who  sat  close  beside  it.  He  was  a  pleasant- 
looking  old  fellow,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
but  was  determined  to  sell  his  family  relic  at  a  good 
figure. 

A  price,  however,  was  soon  agreed  upon,  and  with 
a  smiling  face  the  vendor  took  his  departure,  and  the 
doctor,  lifting  his  prize  carefully  in  his  arms,  took  it 


South  Sea  Savant.  293 

over  to  his  Golgotha — the  big  house  at  the  other  end 
of  the  stockade. 

That  afternoon  the  savant  was  fairly  brimming  over 
with  good  spirits.  A  cheerful,  child-like  simplicity 
underlay  his  outwardly  grave  bearing,  and  Rogers  now 
began  to  take  a  liking  to  him.  In  the  evening  he 
played  dominoes  with  his  guest,  and  spoke  hopefully  of 
returning  to  Europe  with  his  collection,  instead  of 
sending  it  on  in  advance.  Smoking  a  long,  highly- 
ornamented  pipe  the  while,  he  gave  Rogers  many 
interesting  particulars  of  his  experiences  on  the  island. 
His  collection  of  skulls,  he  thought,  was  about  the 
best  ever  secured  in  Oceania,  but  he  deplored  the  fact 
of  his  having  had  to  reject  two  out  of  every  four 
offered  to  him,  the  crude  and  inartistic  manner  in 
which  they  had  been  damaged  by  heavy  iron-wood 
clubs  when  their  original  owners  were  in  the  flesh 
seriously  depreciating  their  value,  if  not  rendering  them 
utterly  useless  as  specimens. 

Long  before  breakfast  on  the  following  morning  the 
spectacled  scientist  was  bustling  about  the  house,  and 
as  soon  as  Rogers  appeared  he  greeted  him  briskly, 
and  asked  him  to  come  with  him  to  his  Golgotha — a 
party  of  his  "  gustomers  "  were  awaiting  him. 

As  they  drew  near  the  big  house  Rogers  saw  that 
the  party  consisted  of  but  two  persons — a  man  and  a 
woman.  Arranged  in  a  row  before  them  were  five 
skulls.  Though  quite  black-skinned  and  woolly- 
haired,  like  most  Papuan-blooded  people,  both  man 
and  woman  seemed  a  quiet,  gentle-voiced  pair,  and 
were,  the  doctor  said,  a  betrothed  couple.  They 
smiled  pleasantly  at  him  as  he  examined  their  wares, 
and  sat  patiently  awaiting  him  to  make  an  offer. 


294  Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe, 

The  man,  whose  mop  of  fuzzy  hair  could  never  be 
approached  by  the  Paderewski  heads  of  this  world, 
let  his  eyes  wander  alternately  from  the  doctor  to  the 
object  of  his  affections  sitting  beside  him.  To  him 
the  price  he  obtained  meant  much,  for  the  father  of 
his  fiancee  was  a  hard-hearted  old  fellow,  who  insisted 
upon  one  hundred  sticks  of  tobacco  over  and  above  the 
usual  dowry  of  ten  hogs.  The  woman,  too,  watched 
the  scientist  with  timid,  anxious  eyes.  Two  of  the 
skulls  belonged  to  defunct  female  members  of  her 
family ;  of  the  other  three,  two  had  belonged  to  men 
who  had  fallen  to  her  lover's  spear  a  year  before,  and 
the  third  was  that  of  a  despised  nephew. 

At  last  the  scientist  made  a  bargain  for  the  two 
biggest  of  the  relics  for  eighty  sticks  of  tobacco  and 
two  butcher  knives  ;  and  with  joy  irradiating  their 
dusky  faces  the  lovers  followed  him  to  his  house  and 
received  payment.  And  Rogers,  as  he  watched  them 
walk  smiling  away,  carrying  the  rejected  relics  with 
him,  saw  the  woman  give  the  man  a  sly  hug  as  they 
went  through  the  gate — the  happy  day  for  her  was 
not  far  off  now. 

A  few  evenings  later  Rogers,  who  was  tired  of  idle- 
ness, asked  his  host  to  give  him  something  to  do. 
They  were  sitting  playing  dominoes  at  the  time. 

"  Very  well,"  he  answered,  "  but  you  haf  berhaps 
nodiced,"  and  he  looked  at  the  young  man  through 
his  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  "dot  I  alvays  keeps  der 
door  of  mine  vork-room  glosed.  Dot  vas  pecause  I 
did  not  vant  you  to  zee  me  at  mine  business  undil  you 
vas  sdrong.  Und  dere  is  nod  a  goot  smell  from  dose 
gemmicals.  But  to-morrow  you  shall  zee  me  at  my 
vork,  und  if  you  vill  help  me  I  vill  be  glad  mit.  Bud 


South  Sea  Savant.  295 

you  moost  nod  dell  any  beobles  vat  my  businees  is. 
So  ? " 

Rogers  promised  he  would  not. 

At  breakfast  next  morning  he  was  disturbed  by 
loud,  triumphant  shouts  outside.  It  was  not  the  first 
time  that  he  had  heard  similar  outcries,  and  he  now 
asked  his  friend,  who  was  placidly  drinking  his  coffee, 
what  was  the  cause. 

"  Dot  is  some  gustomer,"  he  replied,  briefly  ;  "  ven 
ve  haf  finished  preakfast  you  shall  zee,  und  den  you 
und  me  vill  do  some  vork  at  mine  business." 

But  before  the  meal  was  over,  the  clamour  became 
so  great  that  Rogers  followed  his  host  to  the  door, 
which  the  latter  threw  open,  revealing  a  number  of 
natives  who  were  gathered  outside. 

Some  two  or  three  of  these  now  entered,  and  the 
sailor  saw  that  one  of  them  carried  a  gore-stained 
basket  of  coconut  leaf.  This  his  German  friend 
opened,  and  took  out  a  freshly-severed  human  head  ! 

Grasping  it  by  the  reddish-brown  woolly  hair,  the 
investigator  of  turtles'  morality  took  it  to  the  door  to 
obtain  a  better  light,  and  examined  the  thing  carefully. 
His  scrutiny  seemed  to  be  satisfactory,  for,  placing  it 
in  a  large  enamelled  dish  on  the  long  table,  he  opened 
a  trade-box  and  gave  the  vendor  some  tobacco,  powder, 
musket-balls,  and  fish-hooks. 

"  What  in  God's  name  are  you  going  to  do  with 
it  ? "  asked  Rogers,  in  horror-stricken  tones. 

The  German  looked  at  him  in  placid  surprise  with- 
out answering  ;  then  he  abruptly  told  the  natives  to 
go  away. 

"  Come  back  to  our  preakfast,"  he  said,  motioning 
to  Rogers  to  go  first  ;  "  ven  ve  haf  finished  den  I  vill 


296  Dr.  Ludivig 

show  you  vat  I  do  mit  dis  thing — dot  is  pard  of  my 
business  here  in  Gerrit  Deny's  Island." 

And  then,  to  the  young  man's  horror  and  disgust, 
he  learned  that  the  man  he  had  looked  upon  as  a  mere 
skull  collector,  also  bought  and  cured  human  heads. 
That  was  one  of  the  departments  of  his  business. 

"  Vy,"  he  said  quietly,  "  vot  harm  is  there  ?  Dese 
black  beobles  do  kill  each  oder  and  eat  de  podies  of 
dose  who  are  slain.  I  buy  der  heads — dot  is  if  der 
skulls  are  not  broken  mit  bullets  or  clubs.  Und  I 
vork  very  hart  to  make  dose  heads  look  nice  and  goot, 
und  I  sell  dem  to  the  museums  in  France  und  Russia, 
und  Englandt  und  Germany.  I  dell  you,  my  friendt, 
it  is  a  goot  business.  Ach  !  you  may  spit,  on  der 
groundt  as  mooch  as  you  like,  my  friendt,  but  I  dell 
you  dot  is  so.  Und  I  dell  you  some  more — it  vas  at 
von  dime  a  grade  business  in  New  Zealandt,  und  a 
goot  many  of  your  English  officer  beobles  make  blenty 
of  money  buying  dose  schmoked  Maori  heads  und 
selling  dem  to  der  Continental  scientists.  But  by  and 
by  der  British  Governments  put  it  down,  and  now  der 
business  in  Maori  heads  is  finished." 

"I'd  hang  every  one  connected "  began  Rogers, 

when  the  blue-eyed  German  stopped  him. 

"  So  !  but  der  heads  are  dead !  Und  dey  are  vorth 
money.  Blenty  of  beoble  vant  to  study  such  dings  as 
dese.  Und  dese  heads  from  Gerrit  Deny's  Island  are 
prim  full  of  inderest  to  savants,  for  they  presend  a 
remarkable  illusdradion  of  the  arporeal  descend  of  man. 
Und  I  don'd  care  a  tarn  apout  durdles — dot  vos  a  lie  I 
dold  to  your  captain  ;  durdles  haf  no  inderesd  vor  me. 
Now,  better  you  trink  your  coffee  und  come  und  see 
my  gollection,  before  some  more  gustomers  gom«  in." 


South  Sea  Savant.  297 

Feeling  as  if  he  had  eaten  too  much  breakfast, 
Rogers  followed  his  host  back  to  the  big  room  ;  and 
then  lifting  off  the  head  of  one  of  the  casks,  the 
German  showed  him  eight  or  ten  of  the  nightmares 
in  a  pickle  of  alum  and  saltpetre. 

"  Dot  is  der  first  brocess,"  he  explained,  briefly. 

In  the  next  cask — the  second  process — were  others, 
and  more  in  the  third.  These  latter  were  all  ready  to 
be  put  into  the  "smoke-box,"  a  contrivance  so 
designed  that  after  being  thoroughly  dried  by  the 
smoke  of  a  wood  fire  they  were  ready  for  a  final  bath 
in  pyroligneous  acid.  That  was  the  last  process. 

"  Come  und  zee  mein  schmoke-box." 

Rogers  followed  him  to  the  corner  of  the  stockade 
where  the  smoke-box  was  erected.  A  withered  old 
Manilla  man,  with  a  face  like  an  anthropoid  ape,  was 
attending  to  the  fire,  and  moved  away  to  let  him  look 
inside.  One  look  was  enough — a  dozen  or  so  of  the 
horrors  hung  suspended  from  the  cross-beams,  and 
seemed  to  grin  at  him  through  the  faint  blue  smoke, 
their  nostrils  distended  with  pieces  of  stick  and  eyelids 
sewn  together  over  the  cotton-wool-stuffed  sockets. 


When  the  Palestine  arrived  six  weeks  later,  Rogers 
bade  his  host  a  hurried  but  fervent  goodbye,  and  said 
he'd  like  to  see  him  give  up  such  a  beastly  business. 

"  Ach  !  I  cannot  help  mineselfs.  I  musd  stay  here 
mit  my  gollection  for  some  dimes  yet.  But  I  am 
quide  satisfied — my  gollection  is  a  goot  one.  My 
friend t,  if  you  could  at  somedime  see  dose  heads  in 
Europe  you  vill  see  that  Ludwig  Schwalbe  gan 
perserve  heads  more  better  den  dose  Maoris  did.  Ven 


298  Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe. 

dey  are  exhibited  in  a  glass  case   mit,  dey  vill  look 
mosd  beautiful." 

A  year  or  so  afterwards  Denison  read  in  a  colonial 
paper  that  the  distinguished  German  naturalist, 
Dr.  Ludwig  Schwalbe,  had  left  the  Bismarck  Islands 
for  Singapore  in  a  small  schooner,  on  May  2nd,  18 — . 
About  ten  days  later  she  was  found  floating,  bottom 
upward,  off  the  Admiralty  Group,  near  New  Guinea. 
"  The  unfortunate  gentleman  had  with  him  an 
interesting  and  valuable  ethnographical  collection,  the 
labour  of  ten  years." 


THE    TEASUE    OF  DON 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno 

MANY  hundreds  of  tales  have  been  written  about  the 
discovery  of  buried  treasure,  and  the  wise  people  of 
to-day  laugh  and  shake  their  heads  when  some  boy, 
pondering  over  an  exciting  treasure  story  in  which 
doubloons,  and  pieces  of  eight,  and  pirates,  and  buc- 
caneers inflame  his  imagination,  asks  some  one  "  if  any 
part  of  it  at  all  is  true."  Yet,  although  ninety-nine 
out  of  a  hundred  of  such  tales  may  be,  and  probably 
are,  the  purest  fiction,  treasure  has  been  found,  not 
only  in  the  haunts  of  the  old-time  pirates  of  the 
Caribbean  Sea  and  the  Spanish  Main,  but  in  both  the 
North  and  South  Pacific  Oceans  ;  and  the  story  of 
the  finding  of  the  treasure  of  Bruno  do  Bustamente  on 
an  island  in  the  North  Pacific  is  true — true  in  every 
detail  as  here  narrated,  save  that  the  name  of  one  of 
those  who  found  it  has  been  changed.  He  was  an 
Englishman,  and  less  than  thirty  years  ago  was  well 
known  in  the  Southern  Colonies  as  the  chief  officer  of 
a  steamer  trading  between  Sydney,  Hobart,  and  Mel- 
bourne. At  that  time  he  was  a  young  man  of 
twenty -six. 

In   those  days  there  was  a  line  of  mail  steamers 
running  between  Sydney  and  Panama.     They  were 


302  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

rivalled  in  size  and  speed  only  by  the  Peninsula  and 
Oriental  Company's  steamers,  and  were  named  the 
Rakaia^  Mataura^  Ruahiney  and  Kaikoura.  To  be 
appointed  to  one  of  these  liners  was  considered  a  dis- 
tinction, and  therefore  young  Forrest — for  so  I  will 
call  him — naturally  felt  elated  when  he  was  offered 
the  berth  of  first  officer  on  one  of  the  new  liners.  He 
therefore  was  not  long  in  making  up  his  mind  ;  and 
bidding  goodbye  to  the  captain  and  officers  of  the 
City  of  Hobart)  he  went  on  board  the  mail  steamer, 
and  immediately  tackled  the  duties  of  his  new 
position. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Two  months  had  elapsed,  and  the  steamer  was  in 
Panama  Harboui  coaling  for  the  return  trip  to 
Sydney,  when  Forrest  was  sent  for  by  the  agent  on 
some  business  that  required  his  presence  at  the  office. 
A  number  of  passengers  for  the  Sydney  steamer  had 
just  arrived  by  train  from  Aspinall,  or  Colon,  as  the 
Americans  call  it,  on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the  isthmus, 
and  the  agent's  offices  were  thronged. 

Forrest  was  anxious  to  return  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and,  sending  in  his  name  by  a  clerk,  waited  for  five 
minutes  or  so  with  a  fair  amount  of  patience.  After 
taking  in  his  name  to  the  agent,  the  clerk  had  returned 
and  said  that  Mr.  Macpherson  would  see  Mr.  Forrest 
presently.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  Forrest,  pacing 
angrily  to  and  fro  on  the  pavement  outside,  strode  in 
again,  and  in  sharp  tones  asked  the  clerk  to  tell  Mr. 
Macpherson  that  he  could  not  possibly  remain  another 
five  minutes. 

The  clerk  disappeared  into  the  inner  office,  and  Mr. 
Macpherson  himself  came  out. 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  303 

Now  this  Macpherson  was  a  man  to  whom  Forrest 
had  an  intense  dislike.  He  had  been  sent  out  from 
England  to  take  charge  of  the  Panama  office,  and 
during  the  passage  over  from  Sydney  his  offensive  and 
haughty  manner  to  his  fellow-passengers  and  the  ship's 
officers  had  caused  him  to  be  heartily  detested.  He 
was  a  measly-looking,  insignificant  little  creature,  with 
very  weak  eyes,  but  a  hideously  strong  Scotch  dialect. 
And  yet  his  wife  —  who  had  come  over  with  him  in 
the  Rakaia  —  was  the  prettiest  and  sweetest  little 
Scotswoman  imaginable. 

The  moment  Forrest  saw  him  he  endeavoured  to 
get  through  the  crowd  of  people  in  the  front  office, 
who,  seeing  by  his  uniform  he  was  an  officer  of  the 
iaj  made  way  for  him. 


"  What  is  it,  Mr.  Macpherson  ?  "  said  Forrest, 
shortly. 

"  I'll  no'  hae  ye  addreesin'  me  in  such  a  disrespectfu' 
way,  young  man.  An'  I'll  no  hae  ye  stormin*  and 
fumin'  and  sendin'  in  messages  for  me  to  come  oot 
tae  ye  when  ye  ken  I've  varra  important  beesnis  ta 
attend  to." 

Forrest  was  not  a  bad-tempered  man,  but  the 
audible  titter  that  ran  round  the  office  angered  him 
almost  beyond  endurance.  Gulping  down  his  wrath, 
he  said  — 

"  You  sent  for  me  —  on  an  important  matter,  you 
said.  We  have,  as  you  know,  only  twelve  hours  to 
finish  coaling  in.  Tell  me  what  it  is.  I  have  no 
time  to  waste  here." 

"  Hoo  daur  ye  talk  to  me  like  that,"  and  the  little 
man's  watery  eyes  shone  green  with  rage.  "  Wecl, 


304  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

it's  just  this.  Ma  wife  tells  me  that  there  is  a  watter- 
colour  peecture  belonging  ta  me  hanging  up  in  your 
cabin.  Ye'll  just  understand  I'll  hae  no  nonsense 
aboot  it,  and  sae  I  sent  for  ye  ta  tell  ye  so  mysel'  j 
ye'll  please  send  it  ta  me  directly." 

"  You  infernal  little  sweep  !  " 

The  passengers  fell  back  hastily  on  either  side,  and 
Mr.  Macpherson  tried  to  get  back  into  his  office,  but 
he  was  too  late — Forrest  had  got  him  by  the  collar. 
His  temper  had  quite  mastered  him  now,  and  his  face 
was  black  with  passion. 

"  You  d d  miserable  little  beast !  So  you  only 

sent  for  me  to  insult  me  ?  Well,  you've  done  it. 
And  now  I'm  going  to  take  it  out  of  you.  Will  any 
one  lend  me  a  cane  ?  " 

There  was  a  quick  response  of  "  Si,  sefior,"  and  a 
short,  nuggety-looking  man,  who  looked  like  a 
Spaniard,  handed  Forrest  a  light  Malacca  cane. 

Quick  as  lightning  Forrest  pulled  the  little  agent 
over  his  knees,  and  then  for  a  minute  or  so  he  be- 
laboured him  savagely.  Then  he  stood  him  up  on  his 
trembling  legs  again,  and,  dragging  him  through  the 
crowded  front  office  to  the  street  door,  he  gave  him  a 
kick  and  sent  him  flying  head  first  out  on  to  the 
pavement. 

"By  Jove,  sir!"  said  a  big  fat  man  to  Forrest, as  he 
stood  glaring  contemptuously  at  the  prostrate  figure, 
"you'd  better  get  aboard  again.  Served  the  cheeky 
little  beast  rightly,  /  say.  Gad,  he  won't  be  able  to 
sit  down  for  a  month  ;  but  I  think  he's  stunned. 
Hallo,  here's  a  couple  of  aguazils.  Look  sharp,  sir, 
and  get  away." 

Muttering  his  thanks,  Forrest  proceeded  on  his  way 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  305 

to  the  railway  wharf,  where  a  launch  awaited  to  take 
him  over  to  Flamenco,  where  the  Rakaia  was  coaling. 

Just  as  he  had  reached  the  wharf  he  heard  hurried 
footsteps  behind  him,  and  turning,  he  saw  four  police- 
men, who  at  once  arrested  him,  and  in  half  an  hour 
he  was  in  prison — the  result  of  hanging  pretty  little 
Mrs.  Macpherson's  gift,  the  "  watter-colour  peecture," 
in  his  cabin  instead  of  stowing  it  away  in  his  chest,  as 
she  had  desired  him.  At  dinner-time  his  captain 
came,  and  Forrest  learned  he  was  in  for  more  serious 
trouble  than  he  had  apprehended.  The  little  agent, 
so  the  captain  said,  was  stated  to  be  dying  from  a 
cracked  skull,  and  Forrest  would  have  to  stay  in 
prison  till  he  was  tried  on  a  charge  of  attempted 
murder. 

Two  days  afterwards  the  Rakaia  was  gone,  and 
Forrest  lay  in  prison  cursing  his  luck,  hoping  that  it 
wasn't  true  about  the  fractured  skull,  and  wondering, 
if  it  were,  if  he  should  propose  to  the  widow  after  he 
came  out  of  prison. 

On  the  third  day  his  gaolers  told  him  that  a  gentle- 
man wanted  to  see  him.  He  had  had  plenty  of 
visitors,  principally  Englishmen,  from  the  Consul 
down  to  merchant's  clerks.  They  all  tried  to  cheer 
him  up,  but  said  that  little  Macpherson,  who  was  still 
very  bad,  meant  to  press  the  charge  of  attempted 
murder,  and  that  the  Consul  could  do  nothing  for  him. 
However,  he  was  glad  to  have  another  visitor. 

The  moment  he  entered  Forrest  recognised  him. 
He  was  the  little,  square-built  Spanish  gentleman  who 
had  lent  him  the  cane. 

"  Good-day,  sefior,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  ; 
and  then,  in  a  low  voice,  he  added  in  English,  "  What 

21 


306  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

is  this  fellow's  name  ?  "  pointing  to  the  gaoler  who 
stood  in  the  corridor. 

"  Manuel." 

Calling  him  over  to  him,  the  Spaniard  put  in  his 
hand  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece,  and  said — 

u  Friend  Manuel,  I  want  to  have  half  an  hour's 
talk  with  my  friend  here.  I  am  interested  in  him. 
Every  time  I  come  here  I  will  beg  of  you  to  accept 
a  ten-dollar  piece  from  me." 

Senor  Manuel  discreetly  withdrew,  and  the  Spaniard, 
taking  a  little  stool,  placed  it  in  front  of  Forrest,  who 
sat  on  a  bench,  and  commenced  to  talk  to  him  in 
English. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Seftor  Forrest,"  he  said,  "  I  desire  to  assist  you, 
and  in  two  days,  if  you  will  accept  my  assistance,  you 
will  be  a  free  man.  In  the  State  of  Colombia  a  little 
money  goes  a  long  way  with  those  in  power.  Do  you 
understand  ?  " 

The  Englishman  was  about  to  thank  him,  when  he 
stopped  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Be  patient,  please,  and  listen,  and  I  will  tell  you 
why  I  desire  to  see  you  free.  First  of  all,  though, 
answer  me  one  question.  Will  you,  when  free,  enter 
into  my  service  for  one  year,  at  a  salary  to  be  named 
by  you  ? " 

"  What  is  the  nature  of  the  employment  ? " 

"  I  wish  you  to  take  the  command  of  a  vessel." 

"Ah  .'"and  Forrest  instantly  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion that  his  visitor  was  connected  with  some  revo- 
lutionary project.  "  I  am  not  a  naval  officer  ;  I  am 
in  the  merchant's  service." 

"  Precisely  ;  I  know  that.     But  the  service  upon 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  307 

which  you  will  be  employed  is  one  that,  while  you — 
and  I — may  be  exposed  to  a  certain  amount  of  danger 
and  run  risks,  does  not  need  the  training  of  a  naval 
officer,  and  it  is  a  perfectly  honourable  and  legitimate 
adventure.  Does  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  I  was  informed,  Mr.  Forrest,  that  you  are  a  skilful 
navigator." 

He  was  silent  for  a  while,  and  the  Englishman  took 
a  good  look  at  him.  Not  a  sailor,  thought  Forrest, 
looking  at  his  small,  well-kept  hands.  Perhaps  he  was 
a  soldier.  He  certainly  had  the  bearing  of  one.  Pre- 
sently he  looked  up  and  caught  the  young  seaman's 
eye.  He  smiled  pleasantly,  and  stroked  his  pointed 
beard  and  iron-grey  moustache. 

"You  are  wondering  who  I  am.  I  should  have 
been  more  courteous.  My  name  is  Pedro  do  Busta- 
mente.  Until  six  months  ago  I  was  a  captain  of 
infantry  in  the  Spanish  army  in  garrison  at  Malaga. 
My  father  then  died — in  Cuenca.  At  his  death  cer- 
tain property  and  documents  came  into  my  possession. 
I  read  the  documents,  and,  placing  faith  in  what  I 
read,  I  sold  the  property,  threw  up  my  icommission, 
took  passage  to  Colon,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  my 
witnessing  your  beating  of  the  little  man,  would  now 
be  on  my  way  to  San  Francisco  or  some  American 
seaport,  where  I  could  buy  a  small  vessel  for  the  pur- 
pose I  have  in  view.  But,  senor,  I  like  your  face.  I 
believe  you  to  be  an  honourable  man,  and  that  a  good 
Fate  designed  our  meeting.  Goodbye  for  the  pre- 
sent ;  in  less  than  forty-eight  hours  you  will  be  out  of 
Panama." 

"  Well,  that's  queer  !  "    muttered    Forrest,    as    he 


308  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

watched  the  obsequious  Manuel  bow  his  visitor  out. 
"  What  the  deuce  does  he  want  me  for  ?  Any  way, 
I'll  go — that  is  if  I  don't  get  stabbed  or  garotted  here. 
I  wonder  if  that  poor  little  beggar  is  really  dying  ?  " 

But  although  Mr.  Macpherson  was  a  long  way  off 
dying,  both  the  English  and  American  Consuls  knew 
that  Forrest  was  in  for  a  long  imprisonment,  and  so 
did  Captain  Pedro  do  Bustamente.  And  Bustamente 
also  knew  that  by  judicious  expenditure  he  could  be 
quickly  got  out.  So  he  lost  no  time. 

At  midnight  as  Forrest  lay  asleep,  Manuel  came  to 
his  cell,  awoke  him,  and  handed  him  a  note.  It  read — 

"  Put  on  the  cloak  and  follow  Manuel." 

The  gaoler  handed  him  a  heavy  woollen  poncho, 
and  motioned  him  to  follow.  In  another  minute  they 
were  out  of  the  prison  and  walking  quietly  down  the 
street.  For  half  an  hour  they  continued  on  in  the  same 
direction,  till  they  came  to  where  a  man  was  waiting, 
holding  three  mules.  It  was  Bustamente.  Without 
a  word  they  mounted  and  jogged  quietly  along, 
following  the  coast-line  northwards.  At  daylight 
they  drew  up  beside  a  small  roadside  fonda,  and,  to 
Forrest's  surprise,  Bustamente  said,  "Let  us  halt  and 
get  some  breakfast  ;  these  people  here  are  expecting 
us.  There  is  no  fear  of  any  pursuit — that  is,  if  money 
has  any  virtue."  As  they  ate,  Bustamente  told  Forrest 
that  he  had  learnt  English  in  England,  having  been 
for  many  years  on  the  suite  of  the  Spanish  Minister  in 
London. 

All  that  day  they  rode  northwards,  and  at  nightfall 
entered  a  little  seaport  town  on  the  shore  of  Parita 
Bay.  Here  Manuel  left  them,  and  Bustamente  and 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  309 

Forrest  in  another  ten  hours  were  on  board  an 
American  steamer  bound  to  San  Francisco.  Busta- 
mente  had  arranged  with  the  captain  of  the  steamer  to 
call  for  them  on  her  way  down  the  coast. 

As  the  clumsy  old  side-wheeler  Nebraska  steamed 
along  the  coast  of  Costa  Rica,  the  Spaniard  and 
Forrest  sat  in  their  deck  cabin,  and  Bustamente  put 
his  hand  in  his  bosom  and  pulled  out  a  bundle  of 
papers. 

"  Now,  my  friend,  I  can  talk.  I  think  you  will 
find  my  story  interesting." 

And  it  was  interesting.  Briefly  told,  it  was  this  : 
In  1850  his  father,  Bruno  do  Bustamente,  a  Spaniard 
by  birth,  was  the  richest  merchant  at  Mazatlan,  on 
the  coast  of  Mexico,  and  traded  largely  with  the  East. 
The  Governor  of  the  province  of  Durango,  whose 
hostility  he  had  incurred,  had  him  imprisoned  on  a 
trumped-up  charge,  and  from  that  day  he  was  the 
prey  of  the  Mexican  authorities,  who  sought  to  sub- 
ject him  to  a  continuous  process  of  extortion  and 
blackmail.  His  wife  was  a  Mexican  lady  of  San  Bias. 
By  her  he  had  two  children,  a  son  and  daughter. 
The  son,  Pedro,  he  had  sent  to  Spain  to  enter  the 
army.  Upon  regaining  his  freedom  and  paying  a  fine 
of  5,000  dollars  to  the  Governor  of  Durango,  he 
determined  to  leave  Mexico  and  return  to  Spain. 
About  chis  time  his  wife  died.  Quickly  but 
cautiously,  he  realised  upon  his  various  estates,  and 
sold  his  vessels  as  well — all  but  one,  a  brig  of  120 
tons,  named  the  Bueno  Esperanza.  The  captain  of 
this  vessel  was  an  American  named  Devine,  a  man  in 
whom  he  had  the  most  implicit  confidence.  At  that 


3 1  o  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

time  there  was  but  little  gold  coin  in  use  in  that  part 
of  Mexico,  and  he  had  in  many  cases  to  take  payment 
for  the  properties  he  had  sold  in  silver  Mexican  dollars. 
Of  these  he  received  something  like  ninety  thousand, 
and  about  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  gold  coin. 
The  money  was  secured  in  bags  made  of  green  hide, 
and  conveyed  from  time  to  time  on  board  the  Bueno 
Esperanza.  Fearing  every  moment  that  he  would  be 
detained,  and  his  money  seized  by  the  Mexican 
authorities,  he  gave  out  that  he  was  despatching  the 
brig  on  one  of  her  usual  voyages  to  San  Bias,  and  that 
his  daughter,  Engracia,  was  going  there  also  to  visit 
her  mother's  relatives.  Accompanied  by  her  nurse, 
the  little  girl  went  on  board,  and  Don  Bruno  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  the  brig  get  safely  away  without 
suspicion  arising  as  to  the  treasure  she  carried.  But 
instead  of  San  Bias,  the  Bueno  Esperanza  was  bound 
to  Manilla,  in  the  Philippine  Islands,  where  Devine 
was  to  await  the  arrival  of  his  master. 

A  month  later,  Don  Bruno,  having  disposed  of  the 
remainder  of  the  property,  followed  them  in  an 
American  trading  schooner  he  had  chartered  for  the 
purpose,  and  after  a  quick  passage  arrived  safely  at 
Manilla,  and,  to  his  dismay  and  grief,  learned  that 
nothing  had  been  seen  of  the  Bueno  Esperanza^ 
which  should  have  reached  Manilla  a  month  before 
him. 

Month  after  month  passed  by,  and  then  the  dis- 
tracted merchant,  broken  in  health  and  fortune, 
returned  to  end  his  days  in  his  native  town  of  Cuenca. 
His  death  was  very  sudden,  and  his  son  Pedro  learnt 
from  the  old  housekeeper  that  it  occurred  on  the  same 
day  on  which  he  had  received  a  letter,  bearing  a 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  31 1 

foreign  postmark.  Upon  reading  this  letter  he 
became  terribly  agitated.  Telling  his  housekeeper 
that  he  desired  to  write  to  his  son  in  Malaga,  she  left 
him,  and  upon  returning  a  quarter  of  an  houi  after- 
wards she  found  him  with  his  head  upon  the  table, 
quite  dead.  Under  his  cold  hand  was  a  sheet  of  paper, 
on  which  were  scrawled  a  few  words  to  his  son. 
Death  had  smitten  him  too  quickly  to  write  more, 
and  beside  it  lay  the  letter  bearing  the  foreign  post- 
mark. 

These  were  given  to  Captain  Bustamente  as  soon 
as  he  reached  the  house  a  few  days  later. 

"  Here  are  my  father's  last  words,"  said  the  Spaniard, 
and  taking  up  a  paper  he  read — 

"  The  money  will  be  there.  Seek  for  it.  I  command  you  in  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Virgin  to  give  Christian  burial  to  the  bones  of  your 
sister.  I  pray " 

The  remaining  two  or  three  lines  were  undecipher- 
able. 

"And  now,"  continued  Bustamente,  "  read  this — 
the  letter  he  received  an  hour  before  his  death.  It  is 
in  English,  and  is  dated  just  one  year  and  two  months 
ago.  The  enclosure  is  in  Spanish." 

"  SHIP  '  SADIE  WILMOT,' 

"New  Bedford,  U.S.4., 

"6tAMani,  1 86 1. 
"  MR.  BRUNO  DO  BUSTAMZNTI, 

"  Cuenca,  Spain, 

"  DEAR  SIR, — The  ship  Sadie  fFilmot,  of  which  I  am  master,  while 
cruising  for  sperm  whales  between  Mindanao  (Philippine  Islands)  and 
the  Pelews,  on  the  I4th  August,  1860,  picked  up  a  ship's  boat  containing 
the  dead  bodies  of  five  persons,  who  had  evidently  died  from  thirst  and 
starvation.  In  a  tin  box  found  in  the  boat  wai  the  enclosed  letter  to 
you,  and  the  sum  of  one  thousand  dollar*  in  Mexican  gold  coin.  If  you 


312  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

can  establish  a  claim  to  this  I  am  prepared  to  forward  same,  less  charges. 
My  second  mate,  who  is  a  native  of  the  Azores,  read  the  letter  addressed 
to  you.  I  believe  that  the  island  mentioned  is  uninhabited.  I  was  too 
far  to  the  westward  when  the  boat  was  found  to  go  back  and  see  if  any 
of  the  crew  had  remained  there.  Please  reply  to  A.  Wilmot,  New 
Bedford. 

*  Yours  truly, 

"  AMOS  WILMOT." 

Forrest  handed  him  back  the  letter,  and  then 
Bustamente  slowly  unfolded  a  single  sheet  of  paper, 
written  upon  in  pencil.  On  the  top  of  the  sheet  was 
written  in  English — 

"  In  case  of  my  death  I  ask  that  this  may  be  sent  to  Don  Bruno 
do  Bustamente,  Cuenca,  Spain,  or  to  his  son  Pedro,  at  Malaga." 

Then  in  Spanish — 

'Wrecked  on  an  uninhabited  island  in  lat.  7°  29'  N.  long.  i6o°4z' 
E.  Six  of  the  crew  drowned,  also  owner's  child,  Engracia  Bustamente, 
and  her  nurse.  The  body  of  the  former  was  buried  at  a  spot  above 
high-water  mark,  about  300  yards  from  a  large  round  knob  of  rock, 
covered  with  vines  on  the  eastern  point,  and  bearing  E.  by  N.  from 
the  grave.  No  provisions  were  saved  except  some  jerked  beef,  packed 
in  hide  bags.  Were  four  months  on  the  island.  Left  there  July 
3rd,  in  open  boat,  to  try  and  reach  Manilla. 

"  DEVINI." 

With  flashing  eyes  the  Spaniard  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  placed  his  hands  on  Forrest's  shoulders. 

"  Ah,  that  brave  man,  that  Devine  !  Cannot  you 
understand  ?  These  words  of  his  were  written  so  that 
my  father,  if  ever  they  came  to  his  hand,  would  know 
that  the  treasure  had  been  saved  and  hidden.  '  The 
jerked  beef  in  hide  bags.'  The  money  was  in  hide 
bags  !  And  I  think  that  instead  of  my  poor  sister 
being  buried  on  the  spot  he  speaks  of,  there  we  will 
find  it." 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  313 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  cabin  quickly,  and 
then  resumed. 

"  And  then,  see  how  careful  he  has  been  to  avoid 
telling  the  name  of  the  brigantine,  where  she  was 
from  and  where  bound  to.  He  knew  that  my  father 
would  return  to  Spain  after  he  had  given  up  all  hope 
of  the  Beuno  Esperanza  ;  that  in  Cuenca,  his  birth- 
place, he  would  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  ;  he  feared 
to  say  more.  My  good  friend,  I  am  certain  that  un- 
less my  father  spoke  of  those  bags  of  bullock-hide  to 
people  in  Manilla,  not  a  living  soul  but  you  and  I 
know  that  the  brig  carried  a  hundred  and  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  in  gold  and  silver.  And  we  will  go 
to  this  island  and  get  them." 

Their  course  of  action  was  soon  decided  upon.  By 
the  sale  of  the  little  property  he  had  inherited  from 
old  Don  Bruno  his  son  had  realised  nearly  a  thousand 
pounds.  Out  of  this  he  had  paid  nearly  two  hundred 
pounds,  the  greater  part  of  which  had  gone  to  effect 
Forrest's  escape,  and  with  something  like  seven 
hundred  pounds  ($3,500)  he  and  Forrest  landed  in 
San  Francisco. 

A  week  afterward  they  had  chartered  a  small  fore- 
and-aft  vessel  of  fifty  tons,  the  Marlon  Price^  for 
five  hundred  dollars  a  month,  provisioned  her  for  six 
months,  and  with  three  Hawaiian  natives  for  a  crew, 
sailed  out  of  the  Golden  Gate  for  the  island. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  day  out  the  little  Marion 
Price  passed  the  first  of  the  Caroline  Group,  a  chain 
of  low,  sandy  atolls,  covered  densely  with  coconuts. 
That  night  Forrest  hove-to,  for  if  the  position  of  the 
island  they  sought  was  given  correctly  in  Devine's 


3 i 4  ^  -^  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

account  or  the  wreck  they  were  not  more  than  forty 
miles  to  the  eastward  of  it. 

At  daylight  Forrest  stood  away  to  the  westward, 
and  sent  one  of  the  Hawaiians  up  aloft ;  and  whilst 
he  and  Bustamente  were  at  breakfast  they  heard  the 
cry  of  «  Land,  ho  !  " 

The  breeze  was  steady  and  of  good  heart,  and  at 
eleven  o'clock  the  Price  was  within  a  mile,  and  the 
two  white  men  were  scanning  the  strange  island  with 
interest. 

•  •  •  .  . 

It  was,  for  its  smallness — being  barely  two  miles  in 
circumference — of  considerable  height.  On  three 
sides  gray  coral  cliffs  rose  steep-to  from  the  surf  that 
lashed  and  foamed  unceasingly  at  their  base  ;  for  only 
on  the  lee-side  was  the  island  protected  by  a  fringing 
reef.  In  some  places  the  summits  of  the  wall  of 
cliff  sunk  to  perhaps  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  in  others  it 
rose  to  nearly  two  hundred  or  more,  but  preserved  the 
same  grim  and  savage  monotony  of  appearance  through- 
out. Right  to  the  very  verge  the  broken,  jagged 
pinnacles  of  coral  were  concealed  by  a  dense,  impene- 
trable growth  of  short,  stunted  scrub  and  masses 
of  vine  and  creepers.  Here  and  there  these  creepers 
had  grown  over  the  face  of  the  cliff  itself  and  hung 
down  over  the  boiling  surf  below  like  monstrous 
carpets  of  green  and  yellow,  in  other  places  they 
clambered  up  and  wrapt  around  sharp  pinnacles  of 
rock,  so  that  from  the  deck  of  the  Marion  Price  these 
pinnacles  looked  like  densely-verdured  and  neatly- 
trimmed  pine-trees. 

"  Small  hope  for  a  man  did  a  ship  strike  here,"  said 
Forrest,  with  an  involuntary  shudder,  looking  at  the 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  3 1 5 

wild  seeth  of  the  breakers  as  they  dashed  in  quick 
succession  against  the  beetling  heights,  and  fell  back 
in  frothy,  streaming  clouds  and  whirling  flakes  of 
foam.  "Ah,  we're  opening  up  the  south  point  now, 
and  there's  a  long  reef  running  out  there.  Get  aloft, 
one  of  you  fellows,  and  see  if  there  is  a  break  in  it 
anywhere." 

As  the  schooner  stood  out  again  they  got  a  better 
view  of  the  island,  and  could  see  that  although  on  the 
weather  side  it  was  clad  in  short,  impenetrable  scrub, 
it  sloped  gradually  to  the  westward,  and  presently  the 
man  aloft  called  out  that  he  could  see  the  tops  of 
coconut  trees  showing  up  over  the  other  vegetation, 
and  then  :  "  There  is  smooth  water,  sir ;  I  see  beach 
and  passage,  too." 

Rounding  the  point  of  the  long  stretch  of  reef, 
Forrest  hauled  up  and  ran  close  in  again,  and  then  his 
arm  was  seized  by  the  Spaniard. 

"  Look  ! "  and  he  pointed  to  the  shore. 

On  the  eastern  point  of  the  island,  which  they  had 
now  opened  well  out,  there  stood  out  in  bold  relief 
from  the  points  and  knobs  of  vine-covered  rock,  a 
huge,  round  boulder,  flattened  at  the  apex,  but  per- 
fected in  the  symmetry  of  its  outlines  by  a  closely- 
fitting  mantle  of  vivid  green. 

The  two  men  grasped  each  other's  hands  in  silence. 
It  was  the  rock  spoken  of  by  Devine. 

Another  half-hour  and  Forrest  had  let  go  his  anchor 
in  five  fathoms,  on  a  bottom  of  white  sand,  and 
taking  one  native,  he  and  his  friend  lowered  the  boat 
and  pulled  ashore. 


3 1 6  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

The  Bueno  Esperanza  had  evidently  struck  on  the 
long,  fringing  reef  before  mentioned,  as  the  first 
objects  they  saw  were  some  spars,  a  lower-mast  and  a 
broken  topsail  yard,  the  ends  of  which  were  protrud- 
ing from  a  heaped-up  pile  of  loose  coral  slabs  that  the 
action  of  the  surf  had  backed  up  above  high-water 
mark.  Further  along  they  could  see  a  part  of  her 
decking  and  other  wreckage. 

The  Spaniard  leading,  they  clambered  over  the 
bank  of  stones  and  sand,  and  directly  in  front  of  them 
they  saw  a  grove  of  coconuts,  beneath  which  were 
the  ruins  of  a  deck-house  and  a  quantity  of  planking, 
barrels,  ironwork  and  other  material  saved  from  the 
brigantine.  There  for  two  years  the  wreckage  had 
lain  undisturbed,  blistering  and  cracking  under  the 
rays  of  a  tropical  sun,  ever  since  the  hapless  men  that 
had  tenanted  the  deck-house  had  left  its  shelter  to  die 
of  the  horrors  of  thirst  in  a  small  open  boat. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Fifty  feet  or  so  from  the  rotting,  tumbledown  deck- 
house was  that  which  they  sought,  the  grave  of  the 
little  Spanish  child  ;  a  rude,  square  structure  of  coral 
slab,  over  which  the  kindly  creepers  had  crept  and 
bound  lovingly  together. 

Pedro  do  Bustamente,  baring  his  head,  knelt  for  a 
moment  and  prayed  for  the  soul  of  the  little  sister  he 
had  never  seen  since  they  had  played  together  in  the 
days  of  his  childhood. 

Then,  by  a  motion  of  his  hand,  he  directed  the 
Hawaiian  sailor  to  cut  away  the  binding  creepers  from 
the  stones. 

In  a  few  minutes  this  was  done,  and  the  three  men 
rapidly  removed  the  small  slabs  of  loose  coral,  and  then 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  3 1 7 

the  sandy  nature  of  the  soil  rendered  the  rest  of  their 
task  easy. 

The  coffin  of  the  little  girl  had  been  constructed 
very  solidly,  and  as  a  protection  from  decay  had  been 
covered  with  copper  taken  from  the  wreck. 

After  carefully  lifting  it  out  and  placing  it  aside, 
Forrest,  at  the  Spaniard's  request,  made  an  examina- 
tion of  the  bottom  of  the  grave.  He  was  soon 
satisfied  that  it  had  contained  nothing  else  but  that 
which  they  had  taken  from  it. 

To  his  surprise  Pedro  showed  no  disappointment, 
and  asked  him  in  quiet  tones  if  he  would  help  him  to 
carry  the  coffin  to  the  boat. 

This  was  done,  and  they  returned  to  the  schooner. 
Placing  the  coffin  on  the  cabin  table  and  covering  it 
with  a  flag,  the  two  men  came  on  deck  again. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  Spaniard,  "  now  that  that 
duty  is  done,  let  us  get  the  treasure." 

"  Where  shall  we  look  for  it  ?  " 

"There,"  said  Bustamente,  pointing  to  the  great 
round  green  mass  outlined  clearly  before  them,  "  three 
hundred  yards  east  by  north  from  the  grave  !  " 

Taking  with  them  the  three  Hawaiians,  who  were 
provided  with  long,  heavy  knives  to  cut  through  the 
scrub,  they  returned  to  the  shore. 

It  took  them  some  time  to  clear  a  way,  but  at  last 
they  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  great  round  boulder.  A 
thorough  examination  revealed  nothing  in  the  way  of 
any  cave  or  hollow  anywhere  about  the  foot  or  sides. 

With  great  difficulty  the  two  white  men,  by  clinging 
to  the  vines,  succeeded  in  gaining  the  top,  and  imme- 
diately discovered  that  the  flattened  summit  of  the  rock 
was  in  reality  a  large  depression  in  the  centre,  over 


3 1 8  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

which  the  luxuriant  creepers  had  grown  and  formed  a 
thick  network. 

Standing  in  the  centre  they  found  that,  although  the 
bed  of  vines  sank  under  their  feet,  there  was  still  a 
hollow  space  between  them  and  the  bottom.  Then 
the  Hawaiians  were  called  up  and  set  to  work  slashing 
the  vines  all  round  the  edge  of  the  miniature  crater 
with  their  knives. 

Then  the  five  men,  hauling  on  the  heavy  mass, 
dragged  it  to  the  edge  and  tumbled  it  over  the  side, 
and  Bustamente,  with  an  excited  face,  jumped  down 
into  the  hollow,  and  sank  up  to  his  knees  in  the 
accumulation  of  dead  leaves  and  debris  from  the  vines. 

In  a  moment  he  plunged  his  hands  amongst  this 
and  groped  about.  Then  he  looked  up. 

«  It  is  here  !  " 

Forrest  and  a  native  sprang  down  after  him. 

The  moment  Forrest's  feet  touched  the  bottom 
Pedro's  calmness  gave  way,  and  in  his  wild  excitement 
he  threw  his  arms  around  his  comrade  and  embraced 
him.  Releasing  him,  he  turned  to  the  native  sailor — 

"  Clear  away  these  dead  leaves." 

There  was  barely  standing  room  for  them  to  work 
in  ;  and  as  they  had  neither  bags  nor  baskets,  the 
sailors  took  off  their  shirts  and  threw  them  down  to 
Pedro  and  Forrest,  who  quickly  filled  them  with  debris 
and  then  passed  it  up  to  the  men  above,  and  as  they 
worked  they  could  feel  under  their  feet  the  rotted  hide 
bags  giving  way  and  bursting  under  their  weight ;  and 
as  the  last  shirtful  of  rubbish  was  collected  the  native 
sailor  dragged  up  a  piece  of  hide  bagging,  clinging  to 
the  inside  of  which  were  some  Mexican  sun  dollars, 
stained  and  discoloured. 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  319 

And  then,  tearing  away  the  uppermost  side  of  the 
rotting  bags  of  hide,  there  lay  at  their  feet  the  lost 
treasure  of  Bruno  do  Bustamente,  just  as  his  faithful 
captain  had  placed  it  in  the  hollow  rock  two  years 
before.  So  rotten  and  decayed  were  the  topmost  layer 
of  bags,  that  the  contents,  under  the  pressure  of  their 
feet,  had  spread  out  and  formed  a  thick  and  even 
surface  of  silver  coins,  which  hid  from  view  the  bags 
beneath. 

For  an  hour  the  two  white  men  and  one  native 
sailor  worked  collecting  the  loose  Mexican  dollars 
together  ;  and  then,  whilst  two  of  the  sailors  were 
sent  back  to  the  schooner  for  some  canvas  needles, 
palms  and  twine,  Forrest,  clambering  to  the  top  again, 
was  passed  up  handful  after  handful  of  money,  which 
he  poured  out  on  the  rock  beside  him. 

As  soon  as  the  sailors  returned,  the  five  men  set  to 
work  at  the  canvas,  cutting  it  up  and  sewing  it  into 
rough  bags,  into  which  the  loose  coin  was  placed  and 
sewn  up.  Then  they  descended  again. 

The  rest  of  the  bags,  with  careful  handling,  were 
taken  safely  out,  and  then  they  came  to  eight  smaller 
packages,  which  proved  to  be  wooden  boxes  covered 
with  hide.  Taking  a  hatchet,  Bustamente  knocked 
the  outside  covering  off  one,  and  then  prized  open  the 
lid.  It  contained  gold. 

Securing  it  firmly  again,  the  eight  boxes  were  lifted 
out  and  placed  on  the  rock  beside  the  bags. 

Then,  satisfying  themselves  that  all  the  treasure  was 
secured,  they  had  a  hurried  meal,  and  each  man  picking 
up  a  box  or  bag,  they  all  made  their  way  in  single  file 
back  to  the  beach,  and  returned  again  and  again  till 
the  last  load  had  been  brought  down  and  put  in  the 
boat. 


320  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

It  was  dark  before  their  work  was  finished,  and  then 
the  two  white  men  went  below  to  the  cabin  again. 
Around  them  lay  the  bags  and  boxes  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  the  light  from  the  lamp  fell  upon  the  flag-covered 
coffin  of  the  little  Spanish  girl. 

"Poor  little  one,"  murmured  Pedro  do  Bustamente, 
placing  his  hand  tenderly  on  the  flag,  "  thou  shalt  rest 
beside  our  father  in  Spain." 

«  •  «  • 

That  night  they  opened  the  boxes  of  gold  and  counted 
the  money.  Each  box  contained  three  thousand  dollars, 
and  in  one,  a  little  larger  than  the  rest,  they  found  a 
paper  written  by  Devine,  which  gave  a  detailed  account 
of  the  wreck  of  the  Bueno  Esperanza^  and  concluded 
by  saying  that  he  had  opened  the  largest  of  the  boxes, 
which  contained  ^4,000  and  had  taken  from  it  a 
thousand  dollars,  for  it  was  his  intention  to  leave  the 
island  and  endeavour  to  reach  Manilla,  where  he  ex- 
pected to  find  Don  Bruno  awaiting  him.  They  could 
then  charter  a  vessel  and  return  to  the  island  for  the 
treasure. 

As  Forrest  surmised,  the  Bueno  Esperanza  had  run 
ashore  at  night  on  the  long  horn  of  reef  stretching  out 
from  the  south  point.  The  sea  was  fairly  smooth  at 
the  time,  but  the  ship  ground  heavily  on  the  coral  ; 
and  seeing  no  hope  of  floating  her,  Devine  and  his 
crew  proceeded  to  save  all  they  could.  The  treasure 
was  safely  landed  at  daylight,  and  then  the  sea  rose, 
and  the  ship  commenced  to  break  up.  In  returning 
to  the  shore  both  boats  were  capsized  by  a  huge  sea, 
and  six  men  drowned  from  the  mate's  boat,  and  the 
Mexican  nurse  and  the  little  Engracia,  who  were  in 
the  captain's  boat,  were,  although  rescued  from  drown- 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  321 

ing,  so  badly  injured  by  the  coral,  that  they  died  from 
exhaustion  the  next  day.  The  nurse  was  buried  on 
the  beach,  and  the  little  girl,  who  lingered  longest,  in 
the  grove  of  palms. 


After  reading  this  sorrowful  record  the  two  men 
proceeded  to  open  and  count  the  bags  of  silver.  In 
all  it  amounted  to  ninety-three  thousand  Mexican 
and  Spanish  dollars. 

The  next  morning  Bustamente  called  the  three 
Hawaiians  aft,  and  told  them  that  on  the  arrival  of  the 
schooner  at  Manilla  he  would  give  them  five  hundred 
dollars  each  over  and  above  their  wages  ;  but  he  asked 
them  to  swear  secrecy. 

Kahola,  a  huge  broad-shouldered  native  from  the 
island  of  Oahu,  looked  intently  into  the  Spaniard's 
face,  and  then,  bidding  his  fellow-countrymen  stand 
back,  he  said,  gravely — 

"  What  I  swear,  those  two  men  he  swear  too.  If 
you  please,  sir,  you  wait  till  I  get  something." 

He  walked  for'ard  and  disappeared  below,  returning 
in  a  minute  or  two  with  a  book,  whose  size  was  only 
surpassed  by  its  dirty  appearance. 

Standing  before  Bustamente,  the  Hawaiian  saluted, 
beckoned  to  the  two  others  to  stand  beside  him,  and 
held  out  the  book  to  the  Spaniard. 

"  All  right,  sir,  now.  You  go  ahead  and  swear  me 
and  this  two  man  here  on  book." 

Taking  the  volume  from  him,  the  white  man 
opened  it.  It  was  in  a  language  utterly  unknown  to 
him.  He  called  to  Forrest,  who  was  steering,  and 
asked  him  what  it  was. 

22 


322  The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno. 

Forrest  shook  his  head.  "What  book  is  that, 
Kahola  ?  " 

The  seaman  looked  at  him  in  mild  surprise. 

"  That  Bible  in  my  country  language,  sir." 

Forrest  grasped  the  situation  at  once,  and  rapidly 
explained  the  man's  wishes  to  Bustamente. 

The  Spaniard  nodded  gravely,  and  took  off  his  cap  ; 
the  Hawaiians  already  held  their  battered  old  fala  hats 
under  their  arms,  which  were  crossed  over  their  broad 
and  naked  chests.  With  their  dark  eyes  fixed  upon 
his  face,  they  waited.  He  raised  the  book. 

"  Will  you,  Kahola,  and  you,  Li  ho,  and  you,  Bob, 
swear  to  me,  Pedro  do  Bustamente,  to  speak  to  no 
man  about  the  money  on  board  this  ship  till  you 
return  to  your  own  country,  or  till  such  time  as  I  and 
Captain  Forrest  shall  fix  upon  ?  " 

Kahola  conversed  rapidly  with  his  countrymen  for 
a  brief  space.  Then,  with  gravely  respectful  de- 
meanour, but  intense  earnestness,  he  said — 

u  I  think,  sir,  all  us  man  here  swear.  But,  sir,  if 
you  please,  me  and  my  countrymen  like  you  swear 
something  too,  first." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  swear,  Kahola  ?  "  said 
Bustamente. 

"  Me  and  my  countrymen  like  you  swear,  sir,  on 
this  good  book,  that  this  money  belong  to  you.  Sup- 
pose you  no  swear,  me  and  this  two  man  here  no 
swear.  We  'fraid  you  steal  money." 

The  Spaniard  raised  the  book  to  his  lips.  "On 
this  book,  which  is  the  Word  of  God,  and  by  the 
body  of  my  dead  sister,  who  lies  in  her  coffin  beneath 
us,  I  swear  to  you  Kahola,  and  you,  Liho,  and  you, 
Bob,  that  the  money  we  have  taken  is  mine.  It  was 


The  Treasure  of  Don  Bruno.  323 

once  my  father's.  He  is  dead  ;  but  before  he  died  he 
told  me  where  to  seek  for  it." 

"  Good,"  said  Kahola,  and  he  reached  out  his 
brawny  hand  for  the  book,  and  then  added,  in- 
Hawaiian,  "  What  is  the  father's  shall  be  the  son's,  for 
that  is  the  law  of  God  and  the  law  of  man." 

So  in  his  simple,  earnest  manner  the  big  native  sailor 
swore  the  oath — 

"  I,  Kahola,  will  no  tell  no  man  one  word  about  the 
money.  Suppose  I  tell  something,  I  hope  God  kill 
me  dead,  and  give  me  dam  bad  luck." 

Liho  and  Bob  repeated  the  same  words,  and  then 
with  smiling  faces  they  shook  hands  with  Bustamente- 
and  Forrest,  and  turned  to  again  to  their  duty. 

At  noon  the  island  had  sunk  to  a  purple  speck  on* 
the  horizon,  and  Pedro  and  Forrest,  with  joy  bubbling 
in  their  hearts,  were  sitting  on  the  deck  talking. 

"  My  dear  comrade,"  said  Pedro,  placing  his  hand 
affectionately  on  Forrest's  shoulder,  "  you  must — you 
shall  do  as  I  wish.  Both  you  and  I  are  alone  in  the 
world.  Let  us  be  comrades  always.  See  now,  it  was 
so  intended  by  God  for  us  to  meet,  and  therefore  fifty 
thousand  dollars  of  the  money  is  thine  ;  that  will  leave 
me  sixty-four  thousand." 

Forrest  began  to  remonstrate,  but  Pedro  placed  hi* 
hand  on  his  mouth.  "  But  that  I  had  found  such  a 
true  man,  I  may  have  never  succeeded  in  finding  it." 

And  this  is  the  story  of  the  finding  of  the  losr 
treasure  of  Don  Bruno  do  Bustamente. 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  by 

UNWIN   BROTHERS,    LIMITED 
LONDON    AND   WOK  IMG 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

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